


Stormseeker: Scrolls of Prophecy

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Codex Veritatum [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Geneforge, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dimension Travel, Immortality, M/M, POV First Person, Present Tense, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 154,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: Lexen Skywalker has traveled to a new world, to face a new destiny. In the harsh land of Morrowind, Azura attempts to guide him with her prophecies. But he always hated prophecies, and insisted on making his own destiny.





	1. Prison Ship

_You are no one from nowhere._

_The timeline that would have given birth to you no longer exists, and yet you still live._

_You have no name, no parents, no past and no future._

_You are a child of the wandering stars._

_And I, Azura, will guide you to your destiny._

 

* * *

"Wake up," says a raspy male voice. "Wake up, we're here. We've arrived in Morrowind. You must have been having quite the dream."

Beneath me, the rocking of the waves churns my stomach. I sit up and put a hand to my forehead, blinking the sleep from my eyes and peering into the dark cabin. The person who spoke is a man with pointed elven ears, ashen gray skin, and blood red eyes, with a scar running down the side of his face.

"Yeah," I mumble. "You could say that." I feel about myself to find myself clad in the same shabby clothes as the gray-skinned elf, and I'm missing my bag and any other equipment I was carrying, and my hands are bound in shackle-like bracers. "Azura, why couldn't I still have my possessions?" I grumble.

"Never heard of a Breton that worships Azura before," my cellmate says.

"Well, this one does," I reply.

She was the one who sent me here, who gave me passage to this world, a world she was counting on my willingness and ability to help. I'm willing, certainly. As for ability, well, it would help if I still had my belongings.

"What's your name? I'm Jiub."

"Lexen Skywalker," I say, deciding to go by that name. It's as good as any.

"A Breton with a Nord name?" Jiub says. "Half-and-half, I take it?"

I shrug. "Maybe."

I have no parents. In order to erase the doomed timeline, the one I originally came from was wiped from existence. I don't know if another Lexen Skywalker might be born in the new timeline, but I'm not him. And if I have parents in this alternate universe, I don't know who they are. They're not Anara Chelseer and Anakin Skywalker. They're not James Potter and Lily Evans. Not any of the people I might have claimed as parents in any of the universes I've been in before. I'm now nobody from nowhere.

But, if I'm going to blend in with this world, then I'd best start fabricating a story. Having a Breton mother and a Nord father is a good start toward an illusion of having a life. I'll just have to find out more about this world to hammer out the rest of the lie.

I wonder where my friends wound up, and _who_ they wound up being. I should try to contact them as soon as possible, but my lack of possessions might be a problem with that. We had a collection of linked journals, that if one person wrote in, everyone else could see what they wrote. I could have summoned up a spirit animal and sent it along with a message, but I've never been able to cast the Patronus Charm without a focus.

"Do you know what might have happened to my belongings?" I ask.

"Hard to say," Jiub says. "Maybe they'll give them back to you once we're released."

"I hope so," I say. "Some of the stuff in that bag was irreplaceable."

"I don't know, I always figured if you think something is irreplaceable, you just haven't tried hard enough to replace it," Jiub says.

I chuckle. "There's a point to that."

"Shh, quiet, a guard's coming," Jiub says.

An armored human comes down the corridor to the room Jiub and I are in. "Alright, come along, prisoner. You're getting off here."

"Him or me?" I ask.

"You, Breton," the guard says. "Just come along with me."

Jiub inclines his head toward me and says, "Azura be with you."

"Thanks," I say. "You too."

I stumble down the corridor after the guard. The ship isn't even moving and I still can't walk properly in it. I hate sailing. Good thing I remember absolutely nothing of that trip. Thank Azura for small favors. I reach for the hatch and fumble with it but can't quite figure out how to open it.

The guard snorts in annoyance at me. "Here, I'll get those shackles off of you."

It's awfully gracious of him to let me go, and even more gracious not to mock my apparent lack of coordination when anywhere near water. I climb out to the deck and blink into the sun. Birds are chirping, and not far away the eerie call of some sort of enormous creature echoes across the harbor. Since nobody else seems to be freaking out about it, I assume that this is normal and ignore it accordingly. I stagger to the edge of the ship and almost fall face-first into the water, if it weren't for the guard on the dock grabbing me and straightening me.

"Best get your land legs back there," the guard says. "It would look bad for the paperwork if you were to accidentally drown while you're being released from prison."

"Yeah, thanks," I say with a smirk. "Can I just say, for the record here, that I really, really, really hate ships?"

"Duly noted," the guard says. "Our records don't say where you're from."

"I'm a Breton," I say, hoping that explains it.

"So, High Rock then, I take it?" the guard says. "Daggerfall, perhaps?"

"Yeah, Daggerfall," I say smoothly. "I'm totally from Daggerfall."

If the guard doubts the veracity of my claim, he doesn't do more than give me a look and write something down. "Head on in, then."

So that was a prison ship? Why was I even in prison? Hopefully someone will mention it, because I'm not asking. Best just go with the flow and pretend that I know what I'm talking about.

Inside the building is a man in brown robes. "Ah, we've been expecting you. I am Socucius Ergalla with the Imperial Census and Excise Office. We just need to fill out some paperwork and you'll be released. Now, you can either fill it out yourself, or you can answer my questions and I'll fill it out for you."

"I can read," I say. going to take the papers.

"Yes, of course," Socucius says. "We have to be diplomatic about that, after all. Also, the letter that preceded you said you were born under a certain sign, but did not mention which one."

I raise an eyebrow. "That was some excellent communication there."

"Yes, well, sometimes people forget to mention things," Socucius says. "It does seem strange that it would be important enough to mention but not to elucidate. Which sign _were_ you born under?"

"The wandering stars," I venture, really hoping that counts as a valid sign.

"Ah, the sign of the Serpent," Socucius replies. "Patron of the unlucky, the most blessed and most cursed."

"Indeed so," I reply. "Very much indeed." I chuckle.

I look over the paperwork, wanting to know my occupation and skills. Let's see, sort of a bard and sort of a spellsword? I scribble in my best estimates and hand it back to him.

"Ah, very good, very good," Socucius says. "But you did not really need to write 'absolutely useless' at alchemy, really."

"Why do you even need to know this stuff?" I wonder.

"It's procedure. But 'bard-spellsword-thing' does not sound very nice on a form."

I snort softly. "Then call me a 'Stormseeker'."

"I have never heard of a 'Stormseeker'," he says.

"Does everybody really fit into these neat little categories?" I wonder.

I have to wonder just how well any of my skills will even work in this universe, especially if I don't have a wand. Speaking of…

"Also, if I'm being released here, will I get my belongings back?" I ask.

"Your belongings?" Socucius says. "I'm afraid we didn't receive any and there was no mention of such. I'm sorry."

I grumble. "No worries, I'll manage. Just means I'll have to start from scratch again, I suppose."

"Can I just put you down as a bard and scratch out alchemy for destruction magic?" he asks.

"You're really persistent in wanting to put me into a cubbyhole," I say. "Stormseeker. I am the Stormseeker. Alright?"

"Far be it from me to argue," Socucius says, shrugging. "Fine, you're a Stormseeker. And if anyone asks me what that is, I'll tell them I don't know, either."

"It means I like to look for stuff and electrocute things," I say.

"I suppose that makes as much sense as anything," Socucius says. "Very well. Here are your forms. Continue on through and give them to Sellus Gravius in the next building."

He hands me the paperwork, and I move on, already making mental notes for whenever I inevitably wind up having to go through this place again. I wonder, will I reset to the prison ship now when I do a full reset? The Nexus of Torn Elkandu, that I'd originally been resetting to, is no longer functional due to my own actions, even if I _did_ wind up saving the universe in the process, and I hadn't made a full reset since that event. I didn't really want to risk it. But that was before Azura got involved, and I'm sure she'll have something to say about it.

Well, I can't really worry about it too much. If I wind up getting killed in a way that forces a full reset, I'll see for myself when and where I reset to. I'm not going to go out and hit myself with a Killing Curse or find a basilisk to look at in order to force one, and I'm sure normal deaths will just put me back at waking up a few hours previously as usual.

First things first, though, I need to see about resupplying myself. And if I had my bag of holding, even if it were empty, I could just be grabbing everything in sight that might possibly be useful. Actually, never mind, I do grab everything in sight that might possibly useful. Dagger, lockpick, bread, money, ring… I'm sure nobody will miss these things. I'll make a note that replacing my bag of holding will be my first priority when possible, closely followed by my wizard tent. I go into the next building.

"I'm Sellus Gravius," says the armored man in the next room. "I'm here to welcome visitors to Morrowind. Are you the prisoner we're releasing today?"

"I'm Lexen Skywalker," I say. "Here's my paperwork." I hand him the forms.

"Great," Sellus says, taking them from me and not even looking at them. "I don't know why you're here, and I don't need to know. Your release was authorized by the Emperor himself. When you leave this office, you are a free man. But first, I have instructions for you, from the Emperor."

I raise an eyebrow. "Okay, so what does the Emperor want me to do?"

I'll decide for myself whether I actually want to do whatever this Emperor wants later. For the moment, I'll just run with it.

"I have a package here that you are to take to Caius Cosades, in Balmora," Sellus says. "Ask for him at the South Wall Cornerclub."

"Right, could I get a map?" I ask.

"Ah, here you go," Sellus says, handing me a parchment marked with cities, forts, roads, and natural features. "I recommend just going and riding the silt strider, though. Much quicker and safer. You can find it just outside town. You can't miss it. It's a giant insect."

"A giant insect," I repeat. "Okay then. Anything else I need to know?"

"Obey the laws," Sellus says. "Theft, murder, assault. If you wind up going to jail, you're going to need to do the time or pay the fine. The Emperor isn't going to bail you out again."

"Understood," I say. "Am I free to go now?"

Sellus waves me toward the door. "That is all."

I head out the door and take a deep breath of fresh air, and get my first good look at Morrowind. Lush, green trees hang overhead, draping their foliage down toward the ground. Glowing plants and mushrooms grow amidst puddles of algae-filled water.

As I walk away from the Census and Excuse Office, I overhear a pale-skinned elf complaining about how he's certain that the guards took his ring. I consider the ring I grabbed while I was in there, and squint at it, trying to focus my magic senses. Magic reading never came as easily to me as it did to Luna, who always seemed to be able to tell things you wouldn't have thought she had any way to know, but I learned it nonetheless. I detect a blue aura around the ring. Healing magic? Like hell is that elf getting it back. It's mine now. Also, he's really whiny. I pointedly walk away from him and look around for this silt strider.

At the side of the village whose name I still haven't found out, a wooden ramp leads up to an enormous insect standing on stilt-like legs, which lets out a deep, reverberating trill through the air. That must have been what I heard when I got off the boat. A dark elf woman stands at the top of the ramp.

"I'm the caravaner for Seyda Neen. What's your destination, outlander?"

"Balmora," I say, wondering if Seyda Neen is the name of a place or a person.

"That'll be thirteen drakes," the caravaner says. "Just hop in and we'll take a ride."

"In?" I say dubiously, going over to the edge of the platform to take a closer look at this giant insect. Rather than riding _on_ the insect like I'd expected, it appears that someone has hollowed out a cavity inside its carapace and attached controls to its organs and sinews.

"Well?" the caravaner says. "Are you going to pay for a lift or not?"

"Uhh…" I say, backing away. "I think I'll walk."

As I quickly head back down the ramp, I can hear the caravaner laughing about the squeamish outlander.

I pull out the map Sellus Gravius gave me. Yeah, this village is Seyda Neen. I scan over the place looking for Balmora. That's another thing I'm going to need to get, a magic map. I wonder where Sirius wound up? He was the expert in magically mapping things. I do know a bit about it myself, but I can't do fine detail work like that without a wand.

For now, though, it seems like I'm on my own. Wherever my friends might have Awakened into this world, none of them have contacted me yet, and I don't have the means to do so myself right now. I can't even guarantee they might have the same names or faces, but I'm sure I'll run across them sooner or later.

I needn't have resorted to the map. Just outside of town there's a crossroads with signs pointing off to the left and right. Admittedly, the alphabet used on the signs is different from the one in the paperwork I'd been doing, but I can still read it. I head off down the road marked for Balmora and a good many other places. Which would take me right past that damned silt strider again. Who would _do_ something like that to a poor giant insect? I take another look at the map and figure it would be quicker to cut straight north, and find a rough path winding through the swamp.

I barely get out of sight of the village before I hear a bloodcurdling scream split the air, not from ahead of me but from _above_. A man in a robe comes hurtling through the sky and lands with a splat at my feet, dead instantly. What in the Void? Well, there's only one thing to do when there's a corpse in front of you and you're poor. Rifle through the pockets for valuables. Actually, I decide to just strip the body and put on his clothes. They're a little rumpled but otherwise in good shape, even though the hat does look kind of like a nipple. Beats the shabby prison garb the guards had stuck me in. Note to self: Even if I can't get a bag of holding anytime soon, I need to invest in at least an ordinary pack.

The man was carrying some scrolls, and a quick read of their magic shows me that they have some sort of Wind Magic attached to them. Flight, I would assume, given the hapless mage's sudden descent. The fool probably mistimed his landing. Flying would make it much quicker to get to Balmora and save me slogging through a swamp. I take one of the scrolls in hand and pulse my magic through it to activate it, and leap into the air.

I get a lovely view of the landscape whooshing by below me, up until a steep, rocky hill jutting out of the ground interposes itself in my path. I can't stop my flight, and strike the hillside with a headlong rush and a brief crunching pain before I quickly die.

* * *

I wake on the prison ship. This is looking like one of those days.

"Wake up," says Jiub. "We're in Morrowind. That was some dream you must have been having."

"I dreamed I was flying, and then I fell," I reply, rubbing my eyes.

"Ah, got to be careful with those levitation spells," Jiub says. "Don't want it to wear off at the wrong moment."

"Yeah," I agree.

I run through the prison release process again, as if the paperwork hadn't been dull the first time around, and continue to insist that I'm a 'Stormseeker'.

I take a bit more of a look around Seyda Neen this time around, thinking I was in a bit of a hurry to get out of town last time. But I don't see much of interest immediate in the swamp village. I stop in at the tradehouse to look over their supplies, that I determine most of which are currently out of my very low price range. I do invest in an ordinary pack, however. A poor substitute for my magic one, but it'll do for now.

I set off down the north path again, and right on cue, the hapless flying mage lands at my feet. I strip him again, but this time I pocket those scrolls. If I don't figure out a way to use them safely, I could always just sell them, after all. A journal that I hadn't noticed before is laying near him, probably dropped as he was falling. It reveals that his name was Tarhiel, and that he's probably an idiot.

As I'm traveling north, I inadvertently wind up meandering off the path and into a barren, ashen area, whereupon I spot some sort of giant bat-like creature hovering above the rocky hills. It notices me, and with a screech, dives toward me. I draw my dagger and swing, but the creature is fast and maneuverable and I can't land a hit even as it bites and claws at me. What's worse, two more zip in out of nowhere, screeching and clawing the whole time. The bat-like things soon tear me apart.

* * *

I find myself back on the prison ship with Jiub telling me to wake up.

"You were dreaming," Jiub is saying.

"I was dreaming about being torn apart by screeching bat-like creatures," I grumble.

"Cliff racers?" Jiub says.

"Is that what they're called?" I say. "I really hope that dream wasn't prophetic or something, because this is going to be an incredibly annoying 'freedom' if it is."

I go through the release procedure again, buy a pack at the tradehouse, and stare off at the path leading into the swamp for a long moment. I go off just far enough to collect the falling mage's possessions again, then return to Seyda Neen and approach the silt strider port.

"I'd like to go to Balmora, please," I say, handing over the requested coins to the caravaner.

Silt striders are weird, but I can get used to it, I figure. It beats being torn apart by the local wildlife before I can even properly equip myself. Fucking cliff racers.


	2. Slumming in Balmora

The silt strider isn't so bad to ride, once I get over the fact that it's completely disgusting and I'm not sure what the giant insect thinks about being used like this. To be fair, it's definitely non-sentient, and I'm sure I've seen stranger things in my lifetimes. Nothing immediately springs to mind, though. Much as I try to force myself to get used to riding inside a giant insect, I'm glad when we get out of the swamp and arrive in Balmora up the river.

The buildings in Balmora are all made of the same sort of stone without joints or blocks. It must be either carved from large stone, poured from a concrete sort of mix, or formed by magic. I don't know, and I'm not really sure I care. Architecture was never really my thing.

"Welcome to Balmora, outlander," says a dark elf at the silt strider port. "If this is your first time in town, I can tell you what's around here and how to get to places."

"That'd be great," I say. "I'm looking for the South Wall Cornerclub, a place to buy and sell supplies, and a library, preferably one with books on magic if there's one in town."

"The South Wall Cornerclub is the working class tavern located in the southeast part of town. Down from the ramp, turn right and cross the bridge, it'll be on your right. There's a few shops that might do you for supplies. You can find them in the plaza down the ramp and to the left. The Mages Guild is also there. If you're looking to join, you'll want to speak to Ranis Athrys, the guild steward."

"Perfect, thanks," I say.

I decide to start off with the market plaza, and head down the ramp and through the streets. I pass some sort of reptilian humanoid, and wonder just what all species live in Morrowind. What I've seen so far seems to be pretty diverse. Humans, elves, this reptile, I think I spotted a feline humanoid somewhere as well. After spending so much time around primarily humans, it's honestly refreshing.

Corrals sit off to the side, the first one containing large rats and the second one some sort of lizard with a big, rounded head, a thick tail, and tiny front legs.

A blond human woman near to the corrals says, "Are you interested in one of my pack animals? I have pack guars and pack rats for sale at reasonable prices."

"Maybe later," I say politely, even though I have no intention of doing any such thing if I can help it. I can just imagine those poor animals being torn apart by cliff racers.

I relax and spend some time browsing the shops around the plaza. Woven cloth signs hang outside of each one, swaying in the breeze. A pawnbroker, armorer, outfitter, bookseller, general trader. I sell off my extra items, but don't buy anything right now. I locate the Mages Guild readily enough, under a sign depicting an eye, and head inside.

A dark elf woman inside the Mages Guild building greets me. "I am Ranis Athrys. Are you looking to join the Mages Guild?"

"I'm just looking around for now, but I'll probably be back to join later," I say.

"Very well," Ranis says. "I'll be here when you make up your mind."

I will definitely be spending more time in here shortly, but before I commit myself, I'd like to see just what it is that the Emperor wanted. I head back out and cross the river, and locate the South Wall Cornerclub and head inside. Now, if I wanted to be discreet, if this was a cause for discretion, I wouldn't just be asking everyone in sight who I was looking for. I'm not sure how much discretion this calls for, but something about the whole business smells a little funny. Well, no help for it.

I walk up to the first person I see, a blonde human woman, and ask, "Hey, do you know where I can find Caius Cosades?"

"Oh, that old sugar tooth?" she replies. "I'm not sure where he's living now. Try asking Bacola Closcius, the owner."

"Great, thanks," I say, and head off down the hallway to see if I can find this Bacola person.

Down the corridor, I run across a feline humanoid, her brown fur covered by pale armor made of some material I don't recognize offhand. "This scent is new," she says, practically purring. "Are you looking for Habasi? Do you wish to join the Thieves Guild?"

I stare at her for a moment. "You can't just say things like that!" I exclaim. "Aren't you supposed to be all coy about being a thief and all? Not just blurting it out to every random stranger that wanders into your pub?"

The feline seems quite amused. "And why should Habasi not?"

"Well, isn't someone going to, like, arrest you or something?" I wonder.

"Are you threatening to bring the guards down upon Habasi?"

"No," I say. "I'm just saying."

"Are you saying that you obtained everything you have legitimately?" she asks.

"Well… mostly legitimately," I say. "What makes you think otherwise?"

"Your clothes are far too extravagant for someone in here. Habasi knows. Habasi can smell the larceny on you."

"Oh come on, you can't smell larceny," I insist. "Well. With your nose, maybe."

Habasi chuckles. "Yes, Khajiit nose is very good for smelling larceny." So, these feline people are called Khajiit I'm guessing?

"I'll take your word on that," I say. "Look, I'd love to join your incredibly discreet Thieves Guild, but I was never really very good at sneaking around and I have a delivery to make anyhow. Do you know where I can find Caius Cosades?"

"Ah, you are bringing him sugar? Habasi understands."

"Maybe," I say vaguely, honestly not knowing just what it is I'm delivering, although wondering whether 'sugar' is a euphemism for something or if Morrowind really just has weird attitudes toward sweets.

"Habasi thinks he lives not far from here. Bacola might be able to give you directions."

"Great, and where can I find Bacola?" I ask. "Is he downstairs?"

"Upstairs," Habasi says.

"Oh," I say. "So what's downstairs, then? Or is it top secret Thieves Guild stuff I'm not supposed to see unless I join?"

"It's the bar," Habasi says.

"Is the bar secret Thieves Guild stuff?" I wonder.

Habasi snickers. "No. Go have a drink if you like."

"Great," I say. "Because I really need a drink about now. Caius can wait on his unspecified item."

I head downstairs and take a look around. A human man stands behind the bar, serving drinks to an orc who seems intent upon draining their stock dry. Around the dim room, two more Khajiit are loitering, another of those reptilian people stands off against one wall, and another human at the far end is half asleep.

"Hey," I say, coming up to the bar. "What can I get to drink around here?"

"Sorry, we're all out," the bartender says.

"What, seriously?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

The bartender just jerks a thumb toward the orc. "Do me a favor and go upstairs and ask Bacola to get some more stock out here. But I'm not feeding another drop to Gushak here."

"Is there anything you can offer me?" I ask. "Food or anything?"

"Well, I do have a guide to Balmora for just three drakes," the bartender says. "That might be useful if you're new in town."

I put my face in my palm. "You know what, fuck it, I'll take it."

I hand over the drakes and shove the scroll he gives me in my pack. I'll look over it later. Right now, I could use any information I can get my hands on. I go back upstairs and find another human man.

"Good day. I am Bacola Closcius, publican of the South Wall Cornerclub. Can I get you something?"

"The bartender downstairs says Gushak drank all the booze," I say. "And I'm looking for booze. Do you have anything?"

"Ah, yes, I'll have some sent down momentarily," Bacola says. "And I have a fine selection for you. We have shein, mazte, greef, sujamma, flin, or if you'd prefer the taste of the Empire, we also have imported brandy from Cyrodiil."

I don't know what any of those things are except for the brandy, which is probably out of my price range at the moment anyway. My look of confusion is quickly replaced with one of glee. This means I get to try out and discover a whole new range of beverages! I decide to start with the shein.

"It's ten drakes," Bacola says.

At this point, I'm pinching every… drake, apparently. I wonder how open these people are to haggling. "Would you take nine?"

"I can do that," Bacola says. "Here you go." He hands me my booze and I hand him his coins.

I wish I'd thought of trying to haggle when I sold the junk I had in the marketplace. I make a note to try that from now on and see how much I can save. I can never have too much money, after all. I go back downstairs to have a seat and drink my shein as Bacola makes sure there's plenty of booze available downstairs and smirks at the orc.

"I bet you can't drink as much as me," Gushak slurs.

"I don't bet," I say. "And if I did, I would bet that I couldn't afford to drink as much as you."

Gushak just laughs at that.

Once I'm done drinking my bitter wine, I go back to Bacola and ask him where I can find Caius Cosades again. He, at least, can give me directions. My head fuzzy from the shein and the sky starting to grow dark, I wander out into the streets to try to find the right house amongst a dozen nearly-identical ones. It's a good thing no one gets too concerned about me trespassing, because I definitely trespass into a few places.

I come to a building with a bare-chested human man, and stop and find myself staring. He's a pretty fine one.

"Excuse me?" the man says. "Are you lost and drunk?"

I pause for a moment before answering, "Yes."

He chuckles. "Well, at least you're honest. I'm Caius Cosades. What's your name? Haven't seen you around town before. Maybe I can tell you what you're looking for."

"I was looking for you, actually," I say. "I'm Lexen Skywalker."

"Is that so?" Caius says. "You were looking for me?"

"I was told to deliver a package for you," I say, pulling it out of my pack. "And I don't think it's sugar."

Caius chuckles as he takes it and looks through it. Just papers, definitely no unspecified substances of any sort. "Very interesting," Caius says. "It says here that the Emperor wants me to induct you into the Blades. That means you'll be following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders, Lexen Skywalker?"

"I didn't imagine that the Emperor would have wanted to release me from prison for no reason other than to be a one time post carrier," I say with a shrug. "Alright."

Might as well go with it and see where it takes me. I'll admit I'm more than a little curious at this point.

"Good," Caius says. "You are now a member of the Blades."

"That was quick," I say.

"I'm the ranking member of the Blades in Vvardenfell District in Morrowind, so if I say you're in, you're in," Caius says. "We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces. You're welcome to use my bed if you need to rest, just leave the rest of my stuff alone unless I say otherwise."

"Thanks," I say. "So, then, as a member of the Blades, what should I be doing?"

"First off, you're fresh off the boat, and you look it," Caius says.

"Hey, I totally got new clothes," I say. "At least I'm not still waking around in prison rags."

"Regardless, here's some money," Caius says, handing me a pouch of coins. "Go buy yourself a weapon, or a spell, whatever. And you're going to need a cover identity."

"Right, yeah, can't just go around saying 'Hi, everyone, I'm a spy'," I comment.

"Exactly," Caius says with a smirk. "Fortunately, there's a lot of freelance adventurers in Morrowind, so it shouldn't be hard to blend in. You could join up with one of the guilds if you want, establish yourself, advance in the ranks."

"I was thinking of joining the Mages Guild," I say.

"Perfect," Caius says. "You do that, and when you're ready, come back and I'll have orders for you."

"Although I think before I go trying to do magic, I ought to sleep off my shein," I say.

"Also a good idea," Caius says with some amusement.

* * *

I wake with a start when I realize I'm in an unfamiliar bed, only to remember that I slept at Caius Cosades' place last night and that I was a little drunk.

"Good morning, Lexen," Caius says, looking up from his table over at me. "Hungry?"

"Starved," I say, stretching and going to sit across from him.

Caius hands me a loaf of bread. "Figured as much. And I figured you might like something you'd recognize as food. I don't know how acquainted you are with Morrowind cuisine, but some of it is a bit of an acquired taste, especially if you're used to Imperial food."

"To be completely frank with you, sir, I know precisely nothing about Morrowind," I say, and take a bite of my bread.

"Not surprised," Caius says. "And you're not going to be able to convince anyone else that you're not a clueless outlander anytime soon, either, so don't try."

"So, how drunk was I last night?" I ask. "I didn't say anything too embarrassing, did I?"

"Eh, you weren't really that drunk," Caius says.

I finish up my bread and pull out the guide to Balmora that I'd purchased last night. It'll be a good start to figuring things out around here. Apparently Balmora is the seat of Great House Hlaalu, whoever they are. I also glance considering to Caius, wondering just what I should tell him and how much I trust him. He seems an alright sort, but I don't really know him very well. Still, if he's going to be my commander, he ought to know a few things about me. I debate it a bit longer, and decide to hold off on it for now. Maybe in the future, or in another loop, I'll tell him and see how he reacts.

"So," Caius says. "I know I shouldn't pry, but out of curiosity, what were you in prison for?"

I snort in amusement. "No worries about prying. I just don't know myself. Got a bit of amnesia here. Can't remember anything before waking up on the prison ship. Knowing me, though, I probably murdered someone who pissed me off." I pause thoughtfully. "Can't guarantee I won't murder somebody else, too, but I'll try not to get caught again." I smirk.

"Well, so long as you don't hurt or rob any of the Blades, that's not my business," Caius says, returning my smirk.

"You seem strangely unconcerned about someone who has admitted to anger management issues and a propensity to killing people for it," I observe.

"You'd be surprised some of the people I have to deal with," Caius says. "Besides, bandits are always fair game. If you need an outlet for your apparent blood lust, you can always clear out a bandit lair. The world will thank you for it."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. I roll up my guide to Balmora and put it away. "I'm heading to the Mages Guild now."

* * *

I return to the Mages Guild to find Ranis Athrys exactly where I'd seen her yesterday.

"You're back," Ranis says. "Have you decided to join?"

"Yep," I say. "Where do I sign up?"

"Are you ready to swear the Mages Oath?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What's the Mages Oath?"

I don't like swearing oaths lightly, or at all if I can help it, but at least I can reasonably tell myself that it only really applies in one life if I actually join the Mages Guild.

"You will swear not to harm or steal from any member of the Mages Guild," Ranis says. "You will perform any duties the masters of the guild have for you. You will share any knowledge you have freely with the other members of the guild."

"I wasn't exactly planning on going around killing your mages," I say, deciding that I don't really like this oath. There's no way in the Void that I'm going to share all the knowledge I have with them. So I'll just avoid saying it right out. "Those seem reasonable," I comment neutrally. "Can I join?"

"Very well," Ranis says. "Welcome to the Mages Guild, associate."

"Lexen," I say. "My name is Lexen."

"Well, Lexen," Ranis says. "I don't have any duties for a baby mage like you, but go see Ajira for something to do. She might have some sort of menial task for you."

I've already decided that I don't like her.

"I'll do that," I say, turning to head downstairs without even bothering to spend one more minute talking to her even just to ask for directions.

The common area of the Mages Guild is warm and comfortable, with bookshelves and lecterns off to the sides. Divider screens provide some privacy around the bunks and some of the reading areas. As I walk into the room, a dark-skinned human woman glances up from the book she's reading, and her eyes practically light up as she runs over to me.

"Is it really you?" she says.

"Does anyone else have eyes like these?" I say with a grin. This must be one of my companions, but not with a face I recognize. That bushy hair, on the other hand, seems quite familiar. "Hermione?"

"It seems like it's been ages since I saw you. Oh, you probably hardly recognize your favorite bookworm."

I smile. "I could never forget you, Hermione. How've you been?"

"I wound up coming to Morrowind to study magic," Hermione says. "I figured there would be more opportunity here than in my native Hammerfell, and was I ever right! It doesn't hurt that I'm as far away from my parents as is possible to be and still be on Tamriel. They were never too big on the whole 'magic' thing, but then, most Redguards aren't. Well, I haven't been here long and haven't actually learned much magic yet. I've learned a few simple spells and they all seem to work fine, though. Have you joined the Mages Guild, too? That's wonderful! We can study together!"

I just have to laugh lightly. This is definitely Hermione, alright. "I'd be delighted. I have so much to learn. Ah, could you point me to Ajira, though? Ranis told me to ask her for duties. Well. Technically, Ranis told me to ask her for 'menial tasks'."

Hermione snorts softly. "That's Ranis for you. Ajira is the Khajiit in the side room. Here, I'll show you."

In the next room, a robed feline humanoid stands behind a desk, her striped face buried in sifting through some papers. On a nearby table sits strange apparatus I don't recognize and couldn't begin to fathom what they might be for.

"Hello, Ajira!" Hermione says. "This is an old friend of mine."

"My name is Lexen Skywalker," I say with a bow to the Khajiit. "I've just joined the Mages Guild. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ajira practically purrs. "Ajira is glad to meet new mages. Can Ajira help you with something? Would you like some alchemy training?"

"Uhh… No offense, Ajira, but I think you could be attempting to train me at alchemy for a decade and I'd still be hopeless with it," I say. "Sometimes I manage to make a simple potion that isn't poisonous and doesn't blow up…"

Ajira makes an amused noise. "Oh, Ajira is certain that she could help, if you are patient."

"Maybe later I'll give it another shot," I say. "But that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about. Ranis told me to ask you for guild duties. So, do you have anything you need done?"

"Mm, yes, Ajira requires samples of mushrooms for her alchemy research." She lists off the names of several species. "You can probably find them in the swamps to the south and west from here."

"I'll go with you, Lexen," Hermione says. "It'll give us a chance to catch up."

"Not a bad idea to go with backup. Ajira hears the nix-hounds can be nasty if they catch you by surprise."

"Thanks for the warning, Ajira," I say. "We'll be back later with your mushrooms, then."

Hermione and I leave Balmora by the south gate and walk alongside the river. Here I'm walking right back into the swamp I paid a whole thirteen drakes to avoid before. I hope there aren't any cliff racers down there, or that these nix hounds she mentioned aren't just as bad.

Once we're out of earshot of anyone originally from this universe, I say, "So, seeing as I remember nothing before I woke up on the prison ship, I've concocted a rough cover story. I'm a Breton originally from Daggerfall. My father was a Nord, hence my Nord surname, Skywalker. My mother was a Breton."

"That sounds reasonable," Hermione says.

"So, what have you found out about this place?" I ask.

"I got a bit of knowledge when I merged with my counterpart from this world," Hermione says. "It's like a fading dream now, though, and probably just as well. I don't need to remember a lot of arguments with my parents about my choice of vocation. It was disorienting at first. Fortunately the Mages Guild doesn't really have scheduled classes, just one-on-one tutoring, so no one was going to care that I slept in quite a bit to absorb and parse the information. Or at least they particularly wouldn't if I hadn't gotten a few hours extra time on top of that thanks to a couple resets. Dare I ask what managed to kill you on your first day in this world?"

"Cliff racers," I say, not mentioning my mishap with the flight scroll.

"I haven't really dealt with the local wildlife yet," Hermione says. "Are they really that bad? Couldn't you just electrocute them?"

"Didn't think of it at the time," I say. "And I doubt I could have hit them with it anyway. I haven't actually tried much magic in this world yet, although I found mana reading to work just fine."

"Magicka," Hermione says. "They don't say mana, they say magicka."

"What kind of a word is that?" I wonder.

Hermione shrugs. "Local terminology. I didn't come up with it."

We come down out of the nice dry, solid ground and into the swamps. Even the places that aren't puddles of shallow algae-choked water are soggy and muddy. Many of the plants and mushrooms give off a faint luminescence that persists in the samples we pick.

"Guess I'll just have to get used to it," I say. "Sometimes I envy the rest of you for keeping at least some memories from the life you got shoved into. I woke up on a prison ship. Apparently I'd committed some crime that I don't remember."

"Oh, that sucks," Hermione says, then pauses. "You don't still have the authorities after you, do you?"

I shake my head. "I was officially released. And then sent to be a spy for the Empire, of all things. Joining the Mages Guild was part of setting up a cover identity, but it's not like I wasn't going to do that anyway."

"Why would the Empire release you from prison just to recruit you as a spy?" Hermione asks.

"That's what I've been wondering," I say. "Guess I'll find out sooner or later. So, what's magic like in this universe? Does this universe have a name it calls itself?"

"This continent is called Tamriel," Hermione says. "The planet is called Nirn. The term 'Mundus' refers to the physical realm, as opposed to Oblivion, Aetherius, and the Void. People on Tamriel don't seem to have too much contact with or concern about what happens on the other continents. Oblivion is the realm of the Daedra — creatures roughly analogous to demons, spirits, or even angels. The — look out!"

I'm spared a lengthy lecture on cosmology by a pair of four-legged green creatures charging out of the swamp toward us. I lift my arms and call upon lightning, and my hands crackle obediently and send shocks toward the creatures. At least that's one spell I can always count on being able to cast, even if I forget about it. Thank you, Hermione, for pointing out the obvious.

It's not as powerful as I'm used to, though, and my body's mana — excuse me, _magicka_ — reserves deplete quickly. Drained and sore, I pull out my shitty dagger and start nicking at them while backing up to try to avoid their swipes. At my side, Hermione channels a healing spell into me while also backing up. We stumble and almost fall into a large, but thankfully shallow, pool of muddy water. The creatures stop at the edge of the water and start running along the banks.

"They must not like the water," I say.

"I don't like the water, either," Hermione retorts.

"Azura, why the fuck am I so weak," I mutter. "How long must I have been in prison for my body to have atrophied this badly?"

"We just need to get used to things here," Hermione says. "Or really… we just need to play by this world's rules. I tried casting some of our word spells from Hogwarts, you know. Simple ones I normally would have been able to cast wandlessly anyway. I couldn't get them to work just by saying the words. But if I wove magic like Suzy taught us to do, it worked."

"So all that time we spent practicing magic weaving should be useful, at least." I send another lightning bolt toward the creatures and taking one of them down.

"Or just raw channeled spells like your lightning." Hermione raises a hand to throw fire at the other creature, finally roasting it sufficiently to make it stop moving.

"Yeah, I never really needed a spell for that," I say. "It just happens, sometimes whether I want it to or not." With the creatures dead, I climb out of the pool, my nice robes soaked with muck. "I don't suppose Cleaning Charms are one of the things you've managed in this world yet?"

"We spent so much time preparing for the ritual that sometimes it feels like we hardly got anything else done," Hermione says. "It was necessary, though. And now it's done, and we're free." She sends a weave of Water Magic toward me, but all she manages to do is smear the mud all over the place. "Sorry, that might take a little more practice."

"What's this, Hermione not getting something right on the first try?" I say. "Magic must be really fucked up around here."

"I'm just not used to it," Hermione says a little indignantly. "We've hardly been here two days."

"Yeah," I say. "Let's get back to Balmora with these mushrooms before anything else comes out to try to eat us. What even _were_ those things?"

I stop and examine the corpses. They're four-legged insect-like creatures the size of large dogs, with nasty-shaped mouths I got a much closer look at than I would have liked to.

"Maybe those were the nix-hounds Ajira mentioned," Hermione says.

"These are definitely not dogs," I say. "They're more like bugs."

"Luna must be having a field day, wherever she is," Hermione says. "We can see if there's a book on wildlife when we get back."

I grin. "I'm guessing you'll want to stay at the Mages Guild and read whatever you can."

"And you don't?" Hermione asks.

I shake my head. "I'm going to go out into the world and see things, investigate and find out what I can learn out there, and hopefully locate our friends in the process."

"We need to figure out a way to communicate," Hermione says. "It's too bad we didn't keep our belongings when we came here. I put a lot of work into those, trying to put together a supply bag that would be useful no matter what world we wound up in. I'm going to have to see how much of it I can duplicate or adapt, but we're really starting from scratch here."

I take a dip in the river near Balmora on the way back, so at least I'm just wet and not wet and muddy, and Hermione follows my lead. It's an improvement at least. I look off to the walls of Balmora we're approaching.

"Privacy spells," I say quietly. "Among many other things to research."

"If you're going adventuring, then I've got my work cut out for me," Hermione says. "I'm going to need to make study plans." She points a finger at me. "And you just promise to bring me a copy of every book you find."

"Deal," I say with a broad grin.


	3. Magic of Morrowind

When Hermione and I return to the Mages Guild in Balmora, Ranis Athrys complains, "You're dripping all over the floor."

"Then teach us a spell to clean ourselves off," I say. "Otherwise we're going to drip mud all through the guild on the way down."

Ranis makes a disgusted noise and with a casual flick of a finger, we're suddenly clean and dry. "Go ask one of the trainers downstairs. I don't have time for this."

I don't bother to thank her as we head downstairs. We take the mushrooms to Ajira, who gives us some potions in return.

Hermione lets me have them. "You'll probably need these more than me."

I also sell her the extra ingredients we'd collected. The glowing swamp flowers, that Ajira calls 'coda flowers', turn out to be fairly valuable.

"We ran across a couple of green four-legged insect-like creatures out there, but we were able to kill them," I say, not mentioning just how barely we were able to kill them or how we'd abused their fear of water to do so. "Do you know what they were?"

"Those were the nix-hounds Ajira mentioned," the Khajiit says. "Ajira is glad you came back unharmed."

"But they were insects, not dogs…" I protest.

"That is what they are called," Ajira says with a shrug. "Ajira does not know why."

The next morning, I go and ask around at the various trainers. I think I should have done this before heading out, but they all charge for their services, and at least now I have a little more money in my purse. Tutoring in basic spells turns out to be very cheap, though, and I spend all my money on it.

Magic in this world is _easy_. Once I've been shown the basic forms, I'm able to pick the spells up almost immediately. I think all my training at mana weaving in the last universe was very helpful here, even if I need some help adapting it to Mundus' rules. Even the teachers are impressed at how quickly Hermione and I pick up spells. However, even though I can learn the spells themselves quickly, my pitiful magicka reserves can't handle much casting without rest, and it still takes several attempts to cast most of the spells after learning them.

"You'll get better with practice," says Estirdalin, a golden-skinned elf who is the main teacher here.

"So, what, I should just cast the spells over and over?" I ask.

"Yes," Estirdalin says.

"But we can't cast them very many times before having to rest," Hermione says. "Can we learn more efficient versions of these spells?"

"I can help you create custom spells that can do that," Estirdalin says. "They would be very weak, though, but would still be good for practicing with the more powerful spells."

I grin. "Now that would do nicely."

So we make a set of practice spells, one from each of Morrowind's six schools of magic: Illusion, Conjuration, Alteration, Restoration, Destruction, and Mysticism. They only last for a second, but will require a minimum amount of magicka to cast. With the low amount of concentration required, I could easily just cast these repeatedly while walking around the wilderness. I also learn a spell to conjure a glowing purple sword out of thin air, called a Bound Sword, that distinctly reminds me of a lightsaber.

Feeling myself well prepared for travel now, I head out again. Ajira wants some samples of flowers now, and I figure that would be a reasonable thing to do while I'm wandering around in the wilderness anyway. I want to visit the other towns and see if I can locate my friends, and if I can make more money off of collecting alchemical reagents, so much the better. It's not like I'm going to be doing any alchemy myself, and I'm sure Ajira won't mind the additional supplies.

As I'm heading down toward the lake Ajira mentioned, I run across a few people sitting around a campfire outside of a cave entrance. I greet them, and ask, "What's this cave?"

"It's the Shulk Egg Mine. We're egg miners."

"Egg mine?" I wonder. "You… mine eggs? How does that work?"

I then proceed to learn more about Morrowind cuisine and how much of it is based around giant insects called kwama. They eat the eggs, pulp from the insides of the smaller ones, and so forth. Why is everything in Morrowind a bug? Oh well. Guess I'll get used to it. I make a note to try some of this insect food when I get back to town, although I also plan to wash it down with more cheap booze.

I continue on, picking flowers and berries as I go, until I stumble and find myself wedged between rocks and a bush. Swearing in multiple languages, I attempt to dislodge myself, but my atrophied body isn't strong enough to pull myself loose, and my shiny new spells are no help. I attempt to Apparate away, but wind up splinching myself so badly that I die immediately.

* * *

I wake in the Mages Guild at Balmora. While dying is obnoxious, after a quick double-check, I realize that I still have the spells I'd learned before, and now haven't spent the money to learn them.

"Lexen, did you have a nightmare again?" Hermione asks.

"Yeah," I say. "And it was kind of embarrassing, so don't ask."

"What, you were dreaming about walking into a temple naked again?"

I roll my eyes. "No, I was dreaming I got stuck between some rocks and couldn't get out. And then I tried to teleport away and tore myself to pieces."

"Oh, ouch," Hermione says.

I go up to Estirdalin and ask, "Does anyone here teach teleportation spells?"

Estirdalin shakes her head. "You should ask at the temple."

"Why would the temple teach teleportation spells?" I wonder.

"They have spells that let you return instantly to the nearest temple," Estirdalin explains. "You should ask at the Imperial Cult at the fort just outside town, too. They might be able to teach you a spell that will teleport you to the nearest Imperial shrine as well."

"That does sound convenient," I say. "Thanks, I'll do that."

"Also, whenever you're just looking to get around to other Mages Guilds, you can ask a guild guide to teleport," Estirdalin goes on, gesturing to the side room.

I locate the temple on the north side of town, a domed building with a small courtyard outside, and walk inside, not naked. I wander around a bit and head upstairs, thinking that might be where the spell trainers are.

"Blessings of the Three upon you, outlander," says a dark elf woman inside. "I am Feldrelo Sadri, master of this temple. Are you looking to join, or just here for potions or spell training?"

"I wasn't looking to join, although I'm curious as to what you're a Temple to," I say. "Who are the Three? Do you worship Azura here?"

"We worship the Holy Tribunal: Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil, Blessed Be Their Holy Names," Feldrelo explains. "We consider Azura to be the Anticipation of Sotha Sil, and venerate her accordingly."

"What would be required of me if I were to join?" I ask.

"We would ask that you honor the gods, of course," Feldrelo says. "Have faith, honor the family, perform holy quests, and stay true to what is good. Do not harm or steal from members of the Temple."

"That sounds reasonable," I say, wondering why everyone insists on telling me not to harm or steal from their members. Are they really afraid I'll do that that much? "Sure, I'll join."

"Then welcome, outlander," Feldrelo says. "It is always good to see that even outlanders can respect our customs. You can show your devotion by performing the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces. This would involve traveling to each of the seven shrines around Vvardenfell and leaving them an appropriate offering. Here, I can give you a copy of the book, _The Pilgrim's Path_ , that details what this pilgrimage would entail."

"Thanks," I say, taking the book and putting it in my pack. I was planning on doing a good deal of traveling anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem to visit each of these shrines as I go. "Now, where can I find the potions and spell training?"

Feldrelo gives me directions, and I head back downstairs. I mentally apologize to Ajira for selling her potions, but I think I need the money more at this point. Fortunately, as a technical member of the temple even though I haven't actually done anything for them yet, they offer me better prices than they'd give any random outlander that walks in the door. In addition to the spell 'Almsivi Intervention', to teleport me to a temple, I also learn Mark and Recall, which work a little more like the Apparation I'm used to, but require placing a Mark in a location as a beacon to teleport back to. I wonder if there are better teleport spells available, but this will be sufficient for now. As I don't really have a headquarters yet, I just place a Mark in the middle of the Balmora plaza, and head out again.

I stop by Fort Moonmoth, outside of town, but they can't teach me Divine Intervention, the spell to return to one of their shrines. They suggest I try another shrine, and I thank them for their time and head out. As I go picking flowers again, I take a wrong turn and stop before stumbling into another of those ashen areas. I spot a cliff racer in the distance and back away quickly, fortunately before I can attract its attention. I make a note not to go that way, and head down along the lush area around the river instead.

Further down the road, I come across a white-haired dark elf woman, unarmed and looking rather lost and confused. "You there! You must know your way around here better. I'm afraid I've gotten lost."

"I've only been in Morrowind for three days," I say. "But I'll see what I can do. Balmora is that way." I point in the direction I came. "It's dangerous to be out here alone, though. There's cliff racers and nix-hounds that'll tear you apart if they catch you off-guard."

"Oh dear. Oh, where are my manners. I'm Nevrasa Dralor. I'm looking for a holy place called the Fields of Kummu."

"I'm Lexen," I say. "Is this for a pilgrimage for the Tribunal Temple?"

"Yes!" Nevrasa says. "Can you help me? I can pay."

"I can try," I say. "I'm a mage. If nothing else, I can keep the wildlife off of you, and we can get lost together." I chuckle and pull out the book Feldrelo gave me. "It says the Fields of Kummu are located west of Suran on the shores of Lake Amaya. I'm heading that way to collect alchemy reagents, and I'd like to visit this shrine myself." I roll out my map to get my bearings, and we head off.

"You're a member of the temple?" Nevrasa asks.

"Yep," I say. I can't say I really intend to follow their tenets, but the discounts are nice, and so long as I don't get caught, what they don't know won't hurt them.

"What's that you keep casting?" Nevrasa wonders.

"A practice spell," I explain. "So I can get better at magic."

"You're just a novice mage?" Nevrasa says. "Are you sure you can protect me?"

"Would you prefer to wander off alone and take your chances with the cliff racers and nix-hounds?" I ask.

"No, I suppose not," Nevrasa says, then watches me collect a patch of heather. "Are you an alchemist, then?"

"Oh, no," I say. "I'm collecting ingredients for a friend of mine who is, though. Name's Ajira, at the Mages Guild in Balmora. You should look her up if you're ever in the area and need a potion."

"I'll remember that," Nevrasa says.

Along the way, I fight off some of the smaller wildlife with my new Bound Sword. Now _this_ I can do. My body might still be weak and clumsy, but the magic blade is weightless, and I have enough skill to make up for my physical deficiencies.

"You're quite good with that blade," Nevrasa says. "Are you a spellsword, then?"

"Something like that," I say. "Ah, here's a sign that says Suran. We must be going the right way."

"You can read the Daedric alphabet?" Nevrasa says. "You're quite the surprise, outlander."

"Lexen," I say. "My name is Lexen Skywalker."

"Right," she says. "Lexen."

"And yeah, I know a lot of languages," I say. "I'm something of an expert in that area. Now, if only I'd spent more time on magic and exercise and less on linguistics."

A ways ahead, I spot what must be the shrine in question, a short, flat-topped triangular obelisk covered with markings and images. Another pilgrim is praying in front of it.

"I think this is it," I say, then ask the pilgrim, "Is this the Fields of Kummu shrine?"

"It is, outlander."

"Thank you for your guidance and keeping me safe," Nevrasa says. "Here's your payment." She hands me a pouch of coins.

I put it away, then bring out my book to look it over. "Hmm, the book suggests we make an offering of muck here, as a symbol of humility. Where can we get that?"

Nevrasa looks around, then points toward the lake. "I think I see a muckspunge over there."

"Great," I say. "I'll be right back. I'll get some for you, too."

"Thank you," Nevrasa says.

The muckspunge, as she called it, appears to be on a small island in the lake. At least I know how to clean my clothes with magic, now. I head down there and go for a swim. I'm no sooner in the water, however, that a large, toothy fish latches onto my leg.

"Argh," I exclaim, conjuring my Bound Sword and flailing wildly at it.

Fighting _in the water_ is incredibly obnoxious. I manage to bisect the fish before it can tear off my leg and drag me under, but I spot another one swimming my way. This time I manage to climb onto the bank before it can get to me and kill it from the shore. I look around to see if I can spot anything else moving in the water, but it's hard to tell, so I try swimming across again. I barely get out of the water onto the island before another fish shows up, and by the time I kill this one, a giant crab snaps at me and takes a bite out of my right arm.

Morrowind would practically be a relaxing vacation if it weren't for everything trying to kill me.

Once the crab is dead, I look over to the thing Nevrasa called a 'muckspunge'. Several objects shaped like small, spongy volcanos grow out from the island, each of them full of a sort of brown slime. Why did I agree to do this again? I don't even have any container to carry this stuff in, but it seems… solid enough to just carry. I scoop several pieces of it out with my hands and thoroughly soil my robes.

Another giant crab takes issue with its resting place being disturbed and attacks me. I clumsily recast my Bound Sword and manage to kill it without dropping all my hard-earned muck to the bottom of Lake Amaya. After wrapping the muck up in my robes, I swim back across to the shore, fortunately avoiding any angry fish this time, and return to the shrine.

"Oh, you're hurt!" Nevrasa says.

"I'm fine," I say, ignoring the blood dripping on the ground. "Just a flesh wound. There were some nasty fish and annoyed crabs there." I hand her part of the muck and drop the rest in front of the shrine.

"Slaughterfish and mudcrabs?" Nevrasa says. "Oh, I'm glad I didn't go down there myself. Here, I should give you a bonus for that." She offers me a few more coins, and I don't feel like arguing about it.

"Those slaughterfish seem appropriately named."

I start repeatedly casting a very weak healing spell, but it's enough to close up my wounds slowly. Nevrasa and I then go to pray at the shrine and offer up our muck. I'm not sure how impressed the shrine is with us, but I seem to feel lighter, as though a burden were lifted off my shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, I cast a cleaning spell to cleanse the muck and blood off of my clothes.

"I'm going to cast an Almsivi Intervention," I say. "Do you want a lift, or would you rather stay here and pray a bit longer?"

"I'll come with you," Nevrasa says. "I don't think I could find my way back on my own."

"Alright, hold on," I say, going over to put an arm around her.

Nevrasa jumps back in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to teleport us back to the temple," I say, wondering if I've made a mistake about how the spell works. You can't take someone else along while Apparating if you're not touching, after all. I suppose it might be making too much of an assumption that Intervention works the same way.

"You're not just trying to touch me inappropriately?" Nevrasa says.

I sigh. "Madam, I assure you, I prefer the company of men. No offense, but you don't really interest me."

Nevrasa blinks for a moment and doesn't look very convinced.

The other pilgrim, who has so far been quietly praying, looks up and says, "I thought you couldn't take other people with you when you use Almsivi Intervention at all."

"Well, you don't arrive at the temple naked, do you?" I ask. "Otherwise it has to at least take what you're carrying with you. And if you're 'carrying' another person, shouldn't you be able to take them with you?"

"I guess there's some logic to that," the pilgrim says.

"I've seen people cast Intervention while carrying a small child in one hand," Nevrasa says. "But I guess I never thought about having to touch them. Couldn't you just hold my hand or something?"

"Do you want to be dragged across space by your hand?" I ask.

"Well… point," Nevrasa says. "Alright, fine, but no putting your hand anywhere it doesn't belong. I don't care if you say you prefer men, I won't stand for you fondling me."

I don't bother to assure her again and just put an arm around her waist before attempting to cast the spell. It takes a few attempts as the spell fizzles without forming properly, as Nevrasa is looking at me increasingly unimpressed with my spellcasting ability, but I finally manage it. We're yanked away from the Fields of Kummu and deposited in the temple at Balmora. Once she's sure we're here, Nevrasa quickly untangles herself from me.

"Welcome back, outlander," the priest Feldrelo says, nodding to me. "And welcome to the Balmora temple, pilgrim."

"Lexen," I say quietly. "My name is Lexen. Oh, never mind."

"He helped me get to the shrine at the Fields of Kummu," Nevrasa says. "I hated to ask for help, but I don't think I could have made it without him."

"Lord Vivec teaches that sometimes we must help others, and sometimes we must accept help from others," Feldrelo says.

"And sometimes you nearly get dismembered by slaughterfish trying to collect muck," I mumble.

"Your humility and courage do you credit," Feldrelo says.

"Well, right now, I humbly need a drink," I say, bowing to them. "Farewell."

I return to the Mages Guild to dump far more flowers on Ajira's desk than she asked for, and gratefully take anything she'll give me for them.

"Did you get any books?" Hermione asks.

"I got this," I say, holding up my copy of _The Pilgrim's Path_. "But I need it right now. You can probably get one from the temple, though. Otherwise, you're welcome to look through it if you'll give it back in the morning."

"I didn't think of looking for books in the temple," Hermione says. "But I still have a lot to read here, anyway. Thanks for the suggestion, though. I'll be sure to check there when I'm done reading all the books in the Mages Guild."

Estirdalin chuckles, overhearing us. "I have never heard anyone so casually mention that they're going to read all the books in the Mages Guild, as if you'll be done with it by Sundas before moving onto something else."

"I'm sure she _will_ be done with it before Sundas," I say, assuming that's the local equivalent of Sunday.

I go around to check out all the pubs in town. Eight Plates is large, clean, full of people in fine clothing. Not the right sort of atmosphere at all. The people in the Council Club just plain hate me and glare at me until I leave. The Lucky Lockup is okay, but then I realize it's missing a drunk orc and a shady Khajiit or two. I decide to just head back to the South Wall Cornerclub.

"Khajiit sees you have returned," Habasi says.

"I'm here to get drunk and eat bug bits," I say. "Were you going to try to convince me to join the Thieves Guild again?"

"There are benefits," Habasi says. "Your fellow thieves can offer supplies and training, and help when needed. If you ever wind up in trouble with the law, we can make that problem go away, for a small fee."

I consider. "Alright, you've convinced me. I'll join. Let me guess, you don't want me to hurt or steal from any other guild members, right?"

"Indeed," Habasi says. "But everyone else is a mark. Do what you will to them."

"I can appreciate that," I say. "Hmm."

I head downstairs and, releasing the Mark I'd left in the plaza, place one in the middle of the bar area instead. If I ever need to use them to get out of trouble, I want to be able to get straight there, and not try to sneak in. I then return to Habasi.

"So, as me, the newly minted thief, you got anything you need done?" I ask.

"Habasi would like a diamond. There is an alchemist across town who has diamonds. If you sneak in—"

"Did I not mention I'm not that good at sneaking around?" I wonder.

"If you can cast unlocking and chameleon spells…" Habasi says.

I throw up my hands. "And this wouldn't be Ajira at the Mages Guild you're talking about, would it? I _like_ Ajira."

"No, no," Habasi says. "It is Nalcarya of White Haven."

"Okay, fine," I say. "I'll go rob this Nalcarya then. But first, my booze and bug bits."


	4. Marauders Mingle

After spending the night at the Mages Guild in Balmora again, I ask around every spell trainer I know of. I don't know any chameleon or invisibility spells, and no one in Balmora wants to teach them to me. So I decide to branch out. The guild guide can quickly take me to every other Mages Guild in Morrowind. That will let me cover a lot of ground quickly for a tiny fee, let me peruse what spells the other places have available, as well as see if any of my friends are near them.

We could have planned this better ahead of time, but we'd assumed that we'd have either our journals or a Patronus to contact one another. A faulty assumption, apparently, and one we won't repeat in the future. Barring that, my next assumption is that anyone who is able to will likely attempt to locate the nearest pub or Mages Guild. That was at least part of the reason I thoroughly canvassed Balmora, only to find nothing. If any more of my friends are in Balmora, they're not hanging out anywhere obvious like Hermione is.

I start off with Vivec City. I hand over my coins to the guild guide, step onto the travel platform, and with a blink of the eye, I'm suddenly in another Mages Guild that looks a lot like the one in Balmora. I start off by asking around for spell training, and I do find someone willing to teach a weak chameleon spell. While asking around, however, one bald man seems more interested in giving me things to do than offer spell training. Presumably he's the one in charge around here.

"Ah, a young mage. I am Arch-Mage Trebonius, Guildmaster. Are you looking for guild duties? Very well. Go find out about the disappearance of the Dwarves."

"Right, I'll get right on that, sir," I say, having no intention of doing any such thing.

"It should not be difficult," Trebonius goes on. "Just go exploring some of their ruins. You could also speak to Edwinna Elbert in Ald'ruhn. She is quite fascinated with the subject."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," I say, quickly extracting myself, although I have to admit that _now_ I'm curious.

I then head out to what I'd believed would be a street. I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead of a simple city street, I step out into a wide, domed plaza. An array of people mill about between various buildings marked with wooden signs. Morning sunlight streams down through windows along the edge of the dome, and large planters sport the various vibrant fungus I'd seen in the swamp. I stroll down through the plaza, staring openly at everything as I go. There doesn't seem to be a pub of any sort in here, so I head over to the large doors at the end of the plaza and step outside.

I'm in for my second shock of the morning. Instead of being on the ground as I'd expected, this plaza was on at least the third or fourth floor. A forest of giant mushrooms lies below across a lake, their colorful caps vibrant in the sunlight. I move along the walkway next to the stone railing overlooking a vast city made up of pyramid-like structures with domed heads, canals running between them and water pouring out of them. Banners hang from the bridges connecting the structures, swaying gently in the breeze.

As I'm staring off at the city like a tourist, someone comes up behind me and says in a gruff voice, "We're watching you, _scum_."

I spin around, almost falling off the railing to my doom in surprise, and come face-to-helmet with a man covered in golden armor and carrying a large shield. The helmet has been shaped to look like a face, which is a little creepy, especially given the large plume on top.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I am an Ordinator. We enforce the laws of the Holy City. Obey the laws, or the judgment of the Three be upon you."

"Right, totally obeying the laws here," I say.

He's already walking away, having made his point. That armor and attitude is just an intimidation tactic and I know it, but I'm sure they have the strength and numbers to back it up. In my weakened state, I'm hardly going to press it at the moment anyway. I'm just here looking for a pub, but I feel like I could wander around this city for days and not see everything.

For the moment, I head down to check out the lower levels of the section I was teleported to, which I soon find out is called the Foreign Quarter. I pass vendor stalls, shops, including a rare book shop that I make a mental note to tell Hermione about. Then, I finally run across a pub called the Black Shalk Cornerclub and head inside.

I immediately don't like the place, although I can't really pinpoint why. The lighting makes me uncomfortable, almost like it's trying too hard but failing at it, with sputtering candles on each table. As I'm scanning the crowd, though, one familiar face stands out.

"Sirius!" I call out, approaching him and beaming.

"Well, I'll be," Sirius says. "Harry?"

"Calling myself Lexen here," I whisper. That was probably something we should have worked out beforehand, but again, lack of proper planning. "But one more alias is fine." I smirk.

"Either way, it's good to see you again," Sirius says. "How'd you guess where to find me?"

"I've just been checking every pub," I say. "All of them."

"That must be quite the chore, I'm sure," Sirius comments.

"So, how's the Black Shalk?" I ask.

Sirius shrugs. "Not the worst pub I've ever been in. Not the best, either."

I grin. "Want me to introduce you to my new favorite pub? I can teleport us there."

Someone behind us mumbles something about 'barhopping outlander mages'.

"That's the best idea I've heard all week," Sirius says. "Let's go."

He stands up, and I put my arm around him.

"Are you sweeping me off my feet now?" Sirius says.

I try to stifle giggles long enough to get a Recall spell off. We say goodbye to the Black Shalk and appear at the South Wall.

"Welcome to the South Wall Cornerclub," I say, letting Sirius go and gesturing. "My new favorite pub."

"You've been here twice," says the barkeep.

"And it's already my favorite pub," I say. "It has _atmosphere_. And people who don't mind the stupid shit I get up to. Hey, everyone. This here's an old friend of mine and sometime partner-in-crime."

"This one is Chirranirr," says a Khajiit woman who appears to be making lockpicks.

"Sirius Nigellus," he says, making a completely non-serious bow, then looking to me. "This is _that_ sort of pub, isn't it? Lexen, did you join a Thieves Guild?"

"I totally joined a Thieves Guild," I say.

Sirius puts an arm around me and ruffles my hair, making more of a mess of it than it already was. "I am _so proud_ of you."

I drag him upstairs to meet Habasi. "Sirius, this is Sugar-Lips Habasi. Habasi, Sirius."

"Welcome," Habasi says. "Does he wish to join the Thieves Guild?"

"Well, technically, I'm already a member, kind of," Sirius says. "I was a member of the one in the Imperial City. But then I left Cyrodiil because… reasons."

"Habasi understands. You are certainly welcome in this one, as well."

"Maybe _you_ can do this diamond job," I say, nudging Sirius.

"Diamond job?" Sirius asks.

"Habasi wants me to steal a diamond from the alchemist across town," I say. "You're the expert at the sneaky stuff."

"And _you're_ the expert at opening locks," Sirius retorts.

"Well, I guess I can't argue that," I say. "Fine, we go together?"

"It'll be like old times," Sirius says with a grin.

"We can wait until dark," I say. "Got some other stuff to take care of today, too."

"Can we stop and get a drink here before taking care of stuff?" Sirius asks.

"Sirius, it's not even noon," I say.

"It's never too early to start drinking," Sirius says.

I rope an arm around his elbow. "Come on. Got a friend at the Mages Guild I want you to meet."

"Oh!" Sirius says. "Alright, alright, let's go."

As we head out into the streets, Sirius looks over at me repeatedly summoning a Bound Sword that vanishes after a second before casting it again. I can only get it to work around half the time.

"You're not very good at that spell yet, are you," Sirius says.

"Just need more practice," I say.

"Pretty nifty looking one, though," Sirius says. "How good is that blade?"

"Really good," I say.

"Why don't you get it enchanted on a glove or something?" Sirius says. "Get an item to summon it for you. It'd be quicker and there'd be no chance of it failing, and wouldn't drain your own magicka reserves."

"That's an interesting thought," I say. "Have you done much item enchantment lately?"

"Been working on a magic map," Sirius says. "It's really a work in progress, though."

We arrive at the Mages Guild and head inside. I sweep past Ranis Athrys and completely ignore her, making a beeline for the stairs and straight over for the desk Hermione is reading at.

"Hermione!" I say. "Hate to interrupt, but look who I found!"

"Sirius?" Hermione says.

"Sirius Nigellus, at your service," Sirius says with a grin, sliding into the table next to her. "Interesting reading material?"

"Everything is absolutely fascinating," Hermione says. "I've been reading about the Dragon Break."

"The what now?" I ask.

"Something I thought we, of all people, would be interested in," Hermione says, lowering her voice. "Apparently at certain points in history, something strange happened with time. They called it a 'Dragon Break'. Time was effectively 'broken'. It moved faster in some places, slower in others. In some places, it seemed like more than one version of history was true at the same time, and people's memories of events contradicted one another."

"Now that _is_ interesting," I murmur. "But why the name 'Dragon Break'?"

"Because one of the Divines, Akatosh, is associated with Time and manifests himself as a dragon," Hermione explains.

"Really," I say.

"I thought you might find that interesting," Hermione says with a grin.

"I do," I say. "I do indeed."

* * *

We spend the rest of the day discussing the things Hermione has been reading, practicing spells, catching up with Sirius, and working on his map.

Under cover of darkness, we rob Nalcarya's alchemy shop. I unlock the door with a quick spell, and Sirius sneaks in. After a moment, he pops his head back out and gestures me inside. I put up a chameleon spell and slip in after him. He silently points to a chest sitting on a shelf above the bed.

I climb up, trying to be as quiet as possible as Sirius watches the stairs, and pop the lock with another spell. As I'm reaching in to scoop up the diamonds inside, Sirius raises a hand in alarm and backs up. Someone is coming up the stairs, either because they heard me or because they were just coming up to bed to go to sleep. Why couldn't we have done this heist under cover of daylight when someone wouldn't be using their bedroom?

No time to scramble out the door. I wrap an arm around Sirius' chest and Recall back to the Cornerclub. Thankfully, the spell works on the first try this time.

"Did they see us?" I ask.

"I don't think so," Sirius says. "Did you get the loot?"

"Right here," I say, holding up the shinies with a grin. "Habasi's going to love this."

* * *

"I have a task for you," Ranis says, catching me and Sirius as we're heading out the door.

"What is it?" I ask, hoping silently that it's nothing too stupid.

"There is a necromancer hiding out in a cave on the western coast, near Hla Oad," Ranis says. "You will go and kill him."

"Is there a reward?" I ask.

"I shouldn't need to give you a reward for doing your duty and protecting people, but there will certainly be something in it for you," Ranis says. "And, of course, you are free to take any possessions this necromancer had, which I am certain will amount to something as well."

I look to Sirius. "Up for blowing up some undead?"

"I hate those things," Sirius says. "Let's."

Ranis gives directions. The two of us head out from Balmora and trudge through the swamp, eventually reaching the correct cave after quite a bit more wandering around than was strictly necessary. The directions Ranis gave us were horrible. We head inside, fight our way past a bunch of undead, and come to a robed lizard-man at the far end of the cave.

Just as I'm bringing my sword to bear on him, he exclaims, "Wait!" But it's too late. My blade plunges into him.

* * *

I wake in the Mages Guild at Balmora.

"What was that?" Hermione wonders.

"I had this terrible dream where I accidentally killed a friend," I say, frowning. "Let's go, Sirius."

"Right behind you," Sirius says.

"I'm coming along," Hermione says.

"We're going out to that swamp again," I say.

Hermione pauses. "I'm staying here."

Ranis again tells us to go kill the necromancer, who I now know is one of our friends. I noncommittally agree to look into it, and Sirius and I head out into the swamp again. As least it's quicker to get there now that we know where we're going. This time, the undead don't attack us when we go inside.

"Lexen. Sirius," the lizard-man greets us when we reach his room.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"You-Know-Who," the lizard-man replies.

"I don't think I know any Argonians," Sirius says.

"No, I'm really You-Know-Who," the Argonian says, assuming that's what the lizard people are called.

"Oh," Sirius says. "Oh. Ohhh."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," the Argonian says. "You might remember me as Tom."

"Damn, Tom," I say. "You really went in for the no-nose thing this time."

Tom snickers in amusement. "Feel free to keep calling me Tom. My Argonian name is a bit of a mouthful."

"They seriously named you that?" I say.

"Argonians love their pretentious or overly descriptive names," Tom says. "Ones that translate into hyphenated bullshit."

"So, a necromancer," I say. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Indeed," Tom says. "I would have moved into a town where I'd be more likely to be found, but I'm known enough as a necromancer that I didn't deem it safe to do so."

"Understandably," I say. "Ranis Athrys at the Mages Guild in Balmora told us to go kill you."

"Ugh, her," Tom says. "Hate her."

"I don't blame you," I say.

"Have you located any of our other friends so far?" Tom asks.

"Just Sirius here, and Hermione is back in Balmora," I say.

"He found me in a pub," Sirius says. "And apparently Hermione was buried deep in a book."

"I'm going to check out each of the towns I can readily get to and look for the others," I say. "But I think we're going to need a headquarters soon. There isn't really anywhere safe to talk openly in Balmora."

"You're welcome to use my cave," Tom says.

Sirius snorts softly. "I'd rather not live in a cave, if it's all the same to you, no matter how many comforts of home you've put into it. Besides, people know you're here. It's only a matter of time before they send someone else after you."

"We'll need an actual house somewhere," I say. "I kind of miss Caer Danas at this point."

"We don't need a house, we need a castle," Tom says. "We're going to need the space for all of us to stay there when necessary, and room to store all of our things, and I can't guarantee we'll be able to adapt our Extension Charms to this world anytime soon. I've been working on it, to little success so far, but I think Conjuration will be the key to it."

"As you say," I say. "Do you happen to know any castles laying around that people wouldn't mind us taking over?"

Sirius pulls out a map. While it doesn't do much but zoom in and out so far, since it's based on a general map of Morrowind, it at least has well-known areas marked on it. "There's an old stronghold not far from here. Hlormaren."

"Yeah, but who might be living there?" I wonder.

"We can always find out," Sirius says. "There's actually a bunch of these scattered around."

"Probably bandits or cultists," Tom says. "I would have heard if one of the Great Houses or the Imperial Legion had taken control of the fort. I might have tried to take over the place myself, but I didn't have the strength or numbers to do so before I Awakened. Now, however, is another story. With my memories of another world and the two of you at my side, we should be able to oust whoever is there and claim it for ourselves."

"Let's do it," I say. "But first, I'm going to take a nap to minimize the amount of walking through a swamp that we need to do."

* * *

Hlormaren is only a short walk up the coast from Tom's necromancer lair. I'm grateful to this, because while I'm happy to keep collecting coda flowers for Ajira, I've already crossed this swamp enough times today.

"At least it should be simple enough to change my identity once you report back about killing me," Tom says. "Just change my name and clothes, maybe put on some face paint, nobody will know the difference. These Dunmer can't tell Argonians apart anyway beyond our basic coloration."

"Dunmer?" I repeat.

Tom groans. "You know, the dark elves? The people who live in Morrowind?"

"I'm afraid I'm not that up on local terminology much yet," I say.

"Haven't you so much as cracked open a book?" Tom asks.

"That's what I've got Hermione for," I say. "When I last saw her, she was starting in on _A Brief History of the Empire_. Volume one. I'm sure she'll cheerfully tell me all about it when we get back."

"You're going to stick out like a bald Khajiit if you don't even know the most basic things like what a Dunmer is," Tom says.

"Not getting any general knowledge like the rest of us must be rough," Sirius says.

"Welcome to my life," I say with a smirk.

Coming within sight of the old stronghold, we crouch down and try to get a good look at it from a distance, but it's hard to say what we might find inside from out here. I'd prefer bandits to cultists. Bandits probably won't have as many mages with them as cultists are likely to. Of course, not knowing as much about this world, that might be exactly the opposite and the cultists are the magic-hating sort, but I doubt it. But if there's one constant in the multiverse, it's bandits. Anywhere that there's cracks in society, shit always falls into them.

There's a smaller building off to the side, so I decide to check in there first, conjuring my Bound Sword and taking point. Inside, two runed obelisks stand within swirling red threads of magic, beneath large crystal formations on the ceiling. One obelisk reads 'Andasreth', and the other says 'Marandus'. If I remember right from looking at the map, those were the names of two other strongholds. I run up and touch the obelisk on the left, but nothing happens.

"Harry!" Sirius cries out. "Lexen, I mean. Whatever. You can't just go charging into weird magic fields without knowing what they do!"

"And what, we reset to ten minutes ago and have to walk a hundred feet down the coast again?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, but you still shouldn't be so reckless," Sirius says.

"You're a fine one to talk about recklessness," I say. "Mr. Black, meet Mr. Potter."

"No, the worst thing that could have happened, of course, were for you to be trapped somewhere or maimed in some way that we could not recover from," Tom says. "However, since all of us are capable of forcing a reset now if necessary, the former should no longer be an issue. And judging by the magic involved, I doubt it has any mental or soul component. I would have recognized those."

"They were teleportation obelisks," I say.

"You analyzed their magic?" Sirius asks.

"I read what was on them," I say with a smirk.

"And you can still understand every language we encounter, apparently," Sirius says.

"I'll let you know if that ever stops being the case," I say.

Tom switches languages and says, "So, do you speak Jel?"

"Yes," I reply in the same language — Jel, apparently.

"I'm impressed," Tom says, returning to English. Or, well, actually, not English, technically, I suppose.

"Stupid question of the moment," I say. "What is the language we're currently speaking called?"

"Cyrodiilic," Sirius says.

"And is this language coincidentally identical to English, like Galactic Basic, or are we just failing to notice it because, you know, alternate universe weirdness?" I ask.

Tom looks thoughtful.

"I'm gonna go with 'alternate universe weirdness' and leave it at that," Sirius says.

I open the door to the main building, step inside, and get my face smashed in by an orc with a really big hammer.

* * *

I wake in the necromancer lair.

"This is going to be one of those days," I say.

"This has already been one of those days," Sirius says.

"Hey, it wasn't all bad," I say. "We found Tom, after all."

"Which is definitely excellent news," Sirius says with a grin. "Even if I'm not quite sure how I'm going to fuck a lizard."

Tom snorts softly. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Now we just need to find everyone else," I say. "I wonder where Gellert wound up."

"Wherever he is, I'm certain that he's enjoying the constant resets," Tom says.

"Once we're done here, I plan to hit up every town in the area and check out their pubs, libraries, whatnot," I say.

"What makes you think they'll be in the area?" Tom says. "They could have landed anywhere on Nirn, for all we know."

"So far I've found three just on Vvardenfell island alone," I say. "That's statistically improbable to be a coincidence. However, I will say that I'll start off with the towns around Vvardenfell, then branch out to the mainland and the other provinces if we still haven't managed to find them by that point. I suspect that most of them are going to be in Morrowind, though."

"We'll see," Tom says. As we approach the stronghold again, he adds, "Can you try not to get your skull crushed this time?"

"I'll try," I say.

I conjure my Bound Blade, head inside, and promptly get my skull crushed again.

* * *

I wake in the necromancer lair.

"That does it," Tom says. "I'm bringing in the skeletons."

"Aren't you afraid someone will notice and peg us as necromancers?" Sirius asks.

"We're a hundred feet from the fucking stronghold," Tom says. "And the only ones who will be able to report anything are bandits who hopefully aren't going to survive the day anyway. I'll just send in the undead first to kill whatever they can, I'll head through and reanimate any bandits they kill, who will hopefully be enough to let us mop up the rest without anyone getting their head smashed in like an idiot Muggle."

"Right…" I say with a smirk. "But I like using swords!"

"You're weaker and clumsier than I've ever seen you," Tom says, herding the undead toward the cave entrance. "What happened? Was it a side effect of the alternate universe transfer?"

"I _am_ weak," I say. "It's incredibly obnoxious. I'm going to do as much exercise as I can to get up to shape, but there's only so much I can do in a short period of time."

"Have you tried running everywhere?" Sirius says with a grin. "Swimming? Jumping?"

"Jumping?" I repeat. "You can't be— no, I'm not gonna finish that sentence."

"If your body can't keep up, then you'll need to use magic," Tom says. "How many times will you reset only to lose any progress you've made at building body strength?"

"Ugh," I say. "I hate that you have a point. Alright, I'll stay back and backup your undead with lightning."

This time, when we step into Hlormaren, it's a skeleton that takes the brunt of the orc's hammer and not me. The three of us sweep through the stronghold in a flurry of magic and undead. Tom's Conjuration and Mysticism makes a fine counterpoint to Sirius' Alteration and Illusion and my Destruction Magic. We clear out the ground floor and head downstairs into the basement, then start wiping out the bandits down there as well. There are cell doors along each side of the dungeon.

"This must be the prison area," Sirius says, finishing off the last bandit alive down here. "Wonder who they were keeping prisoner?"

All of the people locked away are Khajiit and Argonians, nearly naked and with shackle-like bracers around their wrists.

"Will you let us go free?" an Argonian says, reaching out through the bars.

"They wanted to sell Khajiit as slaves…" one of the Khajiit says, ears cautiously perking up in faint hope.

"Slaves?" I whisper.

Plaintive eyes and shackled hands, gazing between cell bars as if afraid to hope.

"Don't worry," Tom says. "We'll free you." He glances aside to me then tells them. "You'd best back away from the doors, though."

Power surges up through my veins and I cry out, "FREEDOM FOR ALL BEINGS!" With the force of a thunderclap, cell doors slam open and slave bracers shatter to the floor in shards.

The former slaves hesitantly emerge from their cells, and one Khajiit woman comes over and hugs me before scurrying off toward the stairs.

One Argonian pauses to give Tom a long look. "You're that necromancer, aren't you. You're He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Yes," Tom says with a sigh. "Please don't tell anyone I'm here."

"Well, you saved me, so you must be alright for a necromancer, then," the Argonian says.

"I'll see about providing passage back to Black Marsh for anyone that wishes to go home," Tom says. "We'll be freeing every slave we can." He inclines his head toward me. "If this man has anything to say about it, we'll wind up freeing every slave in Tamriel."

"You've taken up some good company," the Argonian says, then comes over to me. "I'm Smart-Snake. So what is the name of our benefactor?"

"Lexen Skywalker," I say. "And… my friend here is right. And I'm willing to use every tool at my disposal to see about bringing freedom for all beings. This land will run red with slaver blood."

"Let's clear out the rest of the stronghold and see if they're keeping anymore slaves somewhere else," Tom says.

I storm through the upper floor with renewed vigor, and Sirius and Tom have to keep me in check to keep me from charging ahead of the undead. At the top, there's a small dome where two more Khajiit slaves were being kept, which I free with a less dramatic declaration of freedom.

"I'll see about getting you to Elsweyr if you wish to go home," Tom says.

"This one is grateful," says one of the Khajiit. "Very grateful."

As I see the former slaves out, Sirius behind me is rummaging through the shelves.

"Alchemy equipment!" Sirius says. "This'll prove useful. And… no idea what this little thing is."

Sirius hands me a black object, larger on one end and roughly the size and shape of my thumb. I look it over thoughtfully and examine the tiny markings on it with the word 'Andasreth'.

"I think I know what this is for," I say. "Let's head back to the room with the obelisks."

"The teleporters?" Tom asks. "Do you want to have to do this over if you get killed by whatever is on the other side?"

"Point," I say, pocketing the index. "We can check it out tomorrow. Do you want to deal with the former slaves, then? Sirius and I can get back to the Mages Guild and report upon our glorious victory over the evil necromancer."

"I'll take care of them," Tom says. "By which I mean I'll help them, not a euphemism, because you'd skin me alive if I hurt them."

"I wasn't doubting you," I say with a smirk. I cast a Mark here so that I'll be able to Recall back later without trudging through the swamp again. "Sirius, are you done looting the place?"

"Yep, let's go," Sirius says.

"Give all my love to Ranis," Tom says with a toothy grin.

I put an arm around Sirius. "One Almsivi Intervention coming right up." We're instantly yanked away to the Balmora Temple.


	5. Ebony Mine

Sirius and I return to the Mages Guild in Balmora, and I go up to Ranis Athrys.

"We've killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," I say. Technically true, if not in this timeline. "He won't be troubling anyone any longer."

"That's the best news I've heard all day," Ranis says. "That damned lizard has been a thorn in my side for far too long. Here, your well-earned reward." She hands both of us a bag of coins and some scrolls.

"Not to complain, but you know I didn't technically join your Mages Guild, don't you?" Sirius says.

"I don't care," Ranis says. "You've still done me a service."

"You must have really wanted this necromancer dead," I say. "What did he do to you?"

Ranis scowls. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a former member of this guild. While he was here, he used his smooth, honeyed tongue to hide his illicit activities. He was gathering forbidden knowledge and practicing necromancy in secret. He then murdered one of my students and blamed it on another, but by the time I discovered what had truly happened, he had already fled town. I'd recently heard rumor pinpointing his location near Hla Oad, and you were the first group of adventurers to come along that I thought could deal with him. He also stole from the guild, but I'm not concerned about returning the items, as they were minor anyway. I'll consider them part of your reward."

"You could have mentioned this all before sending us out there," Sirius says.

"I should not have had to," Ranis says. "I believe we are done here."

We head off down the hallway, and when Ranis isn't looking, Sirius makes a rude gesture in her general direction. Downstairs, Hermione is elbows-deep in another book, although she glances up when we take a seat at her table across from her.

"How'd it go?" Hermione asks.

"We ran into Tom in Hla Oad while we were out dealing with a totally unrelated necromancer for Ranis," I say.

"I see," Hermione says with a touch of amusement. "Did you know that necromancy is legal in the rest of the Empire, and only illegal in Morrowind? But the Dunmer still have ancestral ghosts guard their tombs, which they don't consider to be necromancy."

"Fascinating," I say. I pull out the small object we'd retrieved from Hlormaren. "Have you run across any mention of one of these? I think it's a key to a teleporter."

Hermione shakes her head. "No, I haven't. But then I've barely scratched the surface here. Try asking around. One or another of the mages might know something."

I nod, putting it away. "I'll do that, tomorrow. Right now, I want a good night's sleep." Unspoken is the implication that I don't want to have to repeat today's events.

"Yes, I might lose my place in my book if I get interrupted too much," Hermione says, although she doesn't sound particularly cross about it.

* * *

The next morning, I approach Estirdalin with the object. "Have you ever seen something like this before?"

"Hmm," Estirdalin hmms. "This might be what that mage in Caldera was researching. You should try asking there."

"That definitely sounds like a good place to start," I say. "I was planning on heading over that way to check out the place and their own spell trainers."

I still need to learn that Divine Intervention spell that she'd mentioned, as well, but I'm not sure which shrine might teach it. Almsivi Intervention has already proven to be dead useful. I'll have to look into that further when I get the chance. But first, I definitely want to look into this teleporter business.

"Sirius, care to take a trip to Caldera, or you want to hang around here?" I ask.

"I'll go," Sirius says.

We head over to the guild guide and get transported over to the Caldera Mages Guild. This guild is warm and comfortable compared to the Balmora guild, with rich, hardwood floors covered by ornate carpets, and a crackling fire burning on the hearth in the corner. I approach a dark elf — Dunmer, I suppose — man across the room.

"Good day," I say. "I'm Lexen Skywalker, and this is Sirius Nigellus."

"Folms Mirel. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Can I help you?"

I bring out the object again. "I was wondering, do you know anything about this object? Have you seen one of these before?"

"Ah!" Folms says. "I believe what you have there is a propylon index. I've been studying these! In the ancient days, Vvardenfell was dotted with old Dunmer strongholds, but these days they've been abandoned and allowed to fall into the hands of unsavory elements. Which is unfortunate, because they had an unprecedented teleportation network. Why, using it you could quickly get anywhere on Vvardenfell! Imagine that potential!"

"That does sound like a fascinating prospect," I say.

"So with this index here, we could use this network to travel around?" Sirius asks.

"No, I'm afraid not," Folms says. "Each index will only allow access to a single stronghold. My research suggests that there are ten intact propylon chambers in total, so you will need to locate all ten of the indices to fully repair the network."

"I don't suppose your research has uncovered _where_ these indices might be found?" I ask.

"Oh, yes," Folms says. "In fact, the easiest one to acquire at the moment is right here in town, in the shop of Irgola, the pawnbroker."

"Okay, I'll go steal it," Sirius says.

"You know, do you really need to discuss stealing things so openly aloud?" Folms says. "You could just _buy_ it from him."

"If you knew it was here in town, why didn't you go acquire it yourself for your studies?" I ask.

"Well, he wanted quite a bit of money for it, and I couldn't justify the expense when I was unable to get into one of the strongholds to test it regardless," Folms says.

"Right, I'll go steal it," Sirius repeats.

Folms sighs and puts his face in his palm. "For the sake of plausible deniability and my own sanity, I am going to assume that you meant that you intend to negotiate him down to a price that would be a 'steal'."

"While you do that, I'm going to locate the nearest pub," I say.

Sirius pauses. "Why can't you steal the index and I visit the pub?"

"Because you're better at it," I say. "Besides, you can always join me there afterward, but I wasn't exactly intending on getting drunk this early in the day."

"Fine, fine," Sirius says. "Let's do this."

Before going out, I take a good look around the Mages Guild first and check in with the spell trainers to see if there's anything interesting that I don't know about already. Surprisingly, there isn't really much of a library here. It's a good thing Hermione didn't come along. She'd be quite disappointed. To one side there's a stone alchemy tower, and there are beds in the basement. Nowhere do I spot any faces I recognize, nor does anyone else take note of me.

The local inn is a large building called Shenk's Shovel for some reason. Three floors, and in the largest room is a painting over the fireplace that is positively pornographic. A Khajiit sits in one of the smaller rooms, who doesn't seem too concerned about me barging in like I'm looking for something to steal.

"Ri'Shajirr greets you."

"Hello," I say. "I'm Lexen Skywalker. Sorry if I'm intruding."

"It does not bother Ri'Shajirr. We Khajiit do not have the same attitudes toward property as do Imperial customs."

"Hey, I get that," I say. "I'm with the Guild, myself."

Ri'Shajirr chuckles. "If you're looking for a few pointers, Ri'Shajirr might be able to teach you to be stronger, faster, sneakier."

"I can _definitely_ use some pointers," I say. "I'll keep that in mind. I've got some other things to do today. This seems to be a pretty rich town."

"Yes, and it is likely to get richer," Ri'Shajirr says. "It's the ebony mine. Brings in a lot of gold. Did you know there are slaves in the ebony mine? Nothing to see here in town, but if they keep them out of sight, who will know the difference? Ah, but perhaps Ri'Shajirr should not speak of this. Why would anyone do something about it, and who would listen?"

Sirius pokes his head in the door. "Ah, there are you, Lexen. I got the thing."

"Sirius, we're going to go kill some slavers," I say, clenching a fist in cold rage.

"Oh, goodie," Sirius says. "And here I thought this was going to be a boring day."

We get directions to the mine and head out of town. Standing near the crossroads west of town stands a pale blond man, naked as the day he was born. I recognized his… face immediately.

"Gellert, what in Oblivion are you doing out here, and why are you naked?" I wonder.

"Harry! Sirius!" Gellert exclaims. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"I think I have some spare clothes in here," I say, pulling off my pack and sifting through it. "And I'm calling myself Lexen Skywalker around here."

"A Nord name?" Gellert says. "You're totally a Breton, though."

"I'm claiming my dad was a Nord and my mum was a Breton," I say, tossing him some clothes. "These previously belonged to a bandit we killed. Sirius wanted to enchant them later."

"Much obliged," Gellert says, pulling on his pants. "Gellert isn't actually my birth name in this universe, but since I don't care to go by 'Hrofingr the Bent', you're more than welcome to keep calling me that."

"Gods, I feel like I was lucky to wind up with the name 'Sirius Nigellus'," Sirius says.

"You still haven't explained why you were standing around out here naked," I say.

"Well, there was this witch…" Gellert begins.

"But you're gay," I say.

"Yeah, I didn't say I was _interested_ in her," Gellert says. "She was paying me and I was broke and heading this way anyway. She also took the axe that for some reason I Awakened with, but I don't give a fuck about that."

"Where did you Awaken, anyway?" I ask.

"Solstheim," Gellert says. "Needless to say, I got the fuck away from there as quickly as I could. You'll understand if you ever have the misfortune of having to go there for some reason." He finishes dressing. "There we go, much better. I prefer to keep my nudity to bedrooms or when it would make someone hilariously uncomfortable."

"Yep, you're definitely Gellert," I say with a smirk.

"So, where were you heading?" Gellert asks. "I'm going to stick to you like flies on dung from now on, just so you know."

"Caldera ebony mine," I say. "We were going to kill some slavers."

"Yep, you're definitely Lexen," Gellert says.

"Did you run across anyone else out there?" I ask.

"Nope, you?" Gellert asks.

"We've found Hermione and Tom so far," I say. "Tom is… an Argonian literally named He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Gellert laughs aloud. "Oh, that's rich."

"Hermione's back at the Balmora Mages Guild reading," I say.

"Yep, that's definitely Hermione," Gellert says.

"And Tom is off helping some slaves escape to freedom," I say.

Gellert pauses. "Are you sure that's really Tom?"

We locate the ebony mine not far from the crossroads. Apparently ebony is some sort of metal, I assume, and not a type of wood. Though considering they apparently mine _eggs_ in Morrowind, at this point nothing would surprise me. A wooden bridge leads across to several buildings situated in and around a large pit. We head inside and start poking around. Strangely, i don't spot any guards outside. They must all be in the mine itself.

Some of the slaves are inside rough shacks not far from the mine entrance. I head inside one to find a half-dressed Khajiit woman.

"Dahleena does not recognize you," the Khajiit says. "Are you a new slave boss, or are you here to free us?"

"The latter," I say, breaking her bracers with a word. "Although that's awfully bold of you to ask if you weren't sure why I was here."

"Dahleena did not think you looked like a slave boss. This one is grateful, but you must free the other slaves as well."

"I plan on it," I say. I notice a note on the table from someone named 'Elynea', noting punishments for slaves. "And I'd like to have words with this Elynea, too."

"This one thanks you," Dahleena says. "Dahleena would not be sorry to see something unfortunate happen to her."

"Are the other slaves in the mines?" I ask.

"Dahleena thinks so."

"Would it be easier to get them out at night?" I ask.

Dahleena shakes her head. "Then the guards would be around our shacks instead. They're spread out during the day. You might be able to slip them out before they notice. Or just kill the guards, if you're strong enough, but Dahleena would not recommend trying."

"Sirius, can you use Illusion Magic to get them outside without any noticing?" I ask.

"Can do," Sirius says.

"What about me?" Gellert says, a wild, toothy grin plastered across his face.

"Find Elynea and murder the shit out of her," I say.

"She's probably in the company offices," Dahleena says helpfully.

Sirius and I head into the mine itself, under cover of chameleon spells. We locate the closest slave, and I break open the slave bracers with a whisper, but before we can get to the mine entrance, the world goes dark with a faint yanking sensation.

* * *

I wake in the Mages Guild in Balmora.

I exchange a look with Sirius. Hermione doesn't even bother asking what stupid shit we were up to, and just goes back to reading as if nothing happened. Without even bothering to discuss it, Sirius and I take the guild guide to Caldera and head straight for the crossroads we'd encountered Gellert at. Sure enough, he's already standing there in the buff.

"Totally wasn't my fault," Gellert says with feigned innocence as I throw clothes at him again.

"What did you do?" I ask.

"I tried to murder her, just like you said," Gellert says. "It didn't quite work as well as I'd hoped, though."

"Can't even count on you to kill one little bitch?" I say. "Your magic didn't work right, I take it?"

"Yeah," Gellert says. "I guess I should have spent more time testing it out and less time trying to get the hell away from Solstheim as quickly as possible."

"I should have asked first," I say. "Sorry, I guess it's more my fault than anything else."

"Mara's tits, Lexen, it's not your fault," Gellert says. "And no harm done. Well, besides a quick, painful death of a sword through the gut, but that's no big deal."

"Don't tell me you tried to 'Avada Kedavra' her without a wand?" Sirius says.

"No, no, I know better than _that_ ," Gellert says. "Alright, how in Oblivion does magic work around here, anyway?"

"We've been doing some experimenting and mostly found that mana weaving still works fine for the most part," I say. "We had to get some pointers in the right direction but we were able to adapt what we knew of it."

"If we _didn't_ know what we did of mana weaving, it would probably have taken us years to learn what we did," Sirius says. "I almost have a magic map working, too!"

"Ugh, we've only been apart for a few days and I already feel like you guys are way ahead of me," Gellert grumbles. "Curse my former Nord life. Before I Awakened, I didn't even know any magic at all. Because Nords. And to think, if I had my stupid axe, I could have just bisected the bitch before she had a chance to take a swing at me."

"Yeah, that probably didn't help, either," Sirius says.

"We could just go and get your stupid axe," I say.

"But I'm a wizard!" Gellert whines.

"You're a big, burly Nord with a fine, ripped body that I keep getting a very good view of," I say. "I _wish_ I had your body. Here I keep wanting to use a sword, but I'm a flimsy weakling. I'd say you may as well put your assets to good use while we're working on getting the magic thing squared away."

Gellert waggles his eyebrows at me. "You better believe I'll put my assets to good use."

"In fact, you know what would be better than this axe of yours?" I say. "Being able to summon a magic axe out of thin air." I conjure my Bound Sword. "Isn't this awesome?"

"That is _so cool_ ," Gellert says.

"Bound items weigh nothing, you can pull one out of your ass whenever you want, and random witches can't run off with it," I say.

"Do they have bound clothes, too?" Gellert wonders.

"I think Estirdalin was offering to teach us about conjuring boots and things," I say.

"No Bound Pants?" Gellert says.

"We can check," I say.

"Okay, new plan," Gellert says. "I learn how to conjure an awesome magic axe, then we go back and kill those slavers on principle and free the slaves."

"And re-steal the propylon index," Sirius adds.

"What's a propylon index?" Gellert wonders.

"There's an ancient teleportation network we're trying to reactivate," I say. "It's going to be awesome. Gellert, do you know how to cast Almsivi Intervention?"

"Nope," Gellert says brightly.

"How'd you get so far away from Solstheim already if you didn't know teleport spells?" Sirius wonders.

"First I walked until I got to a dock," Gellert says. "Then I took a boat. Then I started walking. And kept walking. And walking. And walking. Until I wound up naked for some idiotic reason."

"Why didn't you just take a silt strider?" I ask.

"A what now?" Gellert says.

"A giant insect you ride inside," I reply.

Gellert blinks. "… A what now?"

I chuckle. "Welcome to Morrowind. I'll take us back to Balmora. Sirius?"

"I'll do some 'shopping' in Caldera till you get back," Sirius says. "Get my hands on that index again.'

"Meet you in Shenk's Shovel in a little bit, then," I say.

I put an arm around Gellert and cast Almsivi Intervention, and we appear in the temple.

As we head outside, Gellert comments, "You have no idea how long the past few days have felt."

"It's been a busy time," I say. "When we're done today, I need to introduce you to my new favorite pub."

"This ought to be good," Gellert says.

"They don't have any Nord mead there, though," I say.

"Shame," Gellert says.

When we get to the Mages Guild, I lead him inside and over to the take Hermione is studying at. "Gellert, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Hermione. Hermione, I found this guy standing around at a crossroads naked for some gods-forsaken reason."

Gellert waves a hand. "Long story, don't ask."

"Lexen, you meet the most interesting people," Hermione says.

"A new friend, Lexen?" Estirdalin says, approaching. "So many new faces around here."

"Oh, I'm not here to join your guild," Gellert says. "I just want to learn a few spells. Like, first and foremost, how to conjure bound weapons. You see, a witch stole my battleaxe. She can keep it, as far as I'm concerned, but now I want an axe nobody can steal from me."

"A reasonable enough goal," Estirdalin says, inclining her head. "But you will need to spend quite a bit of practice to be able to cast your new weapon reliably."

"That's fine," Gellert says.

"Maybe we should look into some armor, too," I murmur thoughtfully.

"One thing at a time," Gellert says. "I'm just happy to have pants on at the moment."

"Sirius suggested making enchanted items that conjure bound weapons, but I haven't really had a chance to look into it," I say. "Enchanting is more his thing."

"But, that would just be another thing that could still be stolen anyway," Gellert says. "Better to be able to conjure it yourself, wouldn't it?"

"Most of us don't normally wind up standing around naked at a crossroads," I say.

"You never know!" Gellert says. "You have to be prepared for anything!"

Estirdalin chuckles in amusement. "Your passion is commendable, if nothing else. Few Nords give much respect to the arcane arts, for any reason."

Shortly, Gellert learns the motions of the Bound Battleaxe spell, as well as one to conjure a Bound Dagger that will last for one second.

"So you're telling me that I should just cast this stupid dagger over and over and over until I can do it reflexively?" Gellert wonders.

"The art requires patience," Estirdalin says. "Not merely passion."

Gellert conjures the dagger again briefly. "Don't worry, patience I have in spades." He looks up at me. "Shall we go? Sirius is probably halfway to drunk by now."

"Magic cannot be rushed!" Estirdalin calls after us as we head for the guild guide.

Back in Caldera, we head over to Shenk's Shovel to retrieve Sirius, who has thankfully only had one drink by this point.

"Check this out!" Gellert says, holding up his hands to conjure a battle axe. Nothing happens. "Check this out!" he repeats, unfazed, and tries again. Then three more times after that before the axe finally appears.

"Congratulations," Sirius says flatly.

"I'll just need to stand around outside a door until it works if I want to attack anyone on the other side," Gellert says.

We leave Caldera and head back out toward the mine, all three of us repeatedly casting brief spells as we go.

"Remind me one of these loops to ask Folms more about the propylon indices," I say. "Like if he knows where any of the others can be found. Because otherwise it'll be a needle in a haystack to find all of the things."

"And we're still missing, who, Luna, Brax, Remus, Cassie, and Rispy?" Gellert says.

I nod. "Mind you, I haven't ranged very far yet in looking for them. We could cover more ground if we split up."

"And we have no way of contacting one another if anything happens or we need backup," Gellert says.

"That'll be the next priority," Sirius says.

"Besides, I am not letting you out of my sight again if I can help it," Gellert says. "These past few days have been just terrible!"

"I never knew you to be the clingy type, Gellert," I say.

"Hey, at least _your_ boyfriend didn't wake up as a lizard," Sirius says.

"I'm just a bit concerned that if any of them are in trouble, we would have a fuck of a time finding and helping them," I say. "I'm especially concerned about Rispy, after seeing all these slaves. He tends to wind up in poor positions like that."

"Well, if we just go around freeing all the slaves, if he's one of them, we're bound to run across him sooner or later, then," Gellert says.

"That's what I'm hoping," I say. "So, Gellert, how the fuck did you wind up being a Nord warrior? Did you at least get expelled from warrior school, attempt to take over Solstheim for the greater good, _something_?"

Gellert considers. "Honestly, my past before my Awakening is a little fuzzy now, like a dream after you've woken up."

"Yeah, same here," Sirius says. "I've got impressions of general world knowledge and skills, and I vaguely know what I did before I woke up, but I couldn't point out any details or _why_ any of it happened or I did any of the things I apparently did."

"At least you guys have that much," I say. "I don't even remember what crime I supposedly committed to get sent here on a prison ship."

"That's disappointing," Gellert says. "Getting punished without having the pleasure of committing the crime?"

"I know, right?" I say.

"So, you're an escaped convict?" Gellert says.

"No, no, I was officially released and everything," I say. "And then recruited into the Empire's spy organization for some reason. Gonna need to figure out why sometime. My 'boss' told me to get a cover identity set up and then come back and see him when I was ready."

"Okay, this is _much_ more interesting than just an escaped convict, then," Gellert says with a grin.

"You know, if you're trying to be undercover, why are we blatantly disrupting mining operations here?" Sirius says.

"Because they're slavers," I say flatly.

"Nobody would ever suspect an undercover operative would just run around slaughtering people?" Gellert says, smirking.

"I'm really not much of an operative," I say. "I met the guy once, got my 'orders', and then haven't spoken with him since."

"When were you planning on checking back with him?" Gellert asks.

"Dunno," I say. "Maybe once Sirius gets us a working map. Or once we've scoured the easily-reached areas to see if our friends are there."

"We'd be doing more scouring if we didn't keep getting sidetracked," Sirius says.

We're approaching the mine by now. Gellert gestures toward the office building and starts trying to cast his Bound Battleaxe.

"Right, once you get that thing cast, I'll back you up with spells," Sirius says. "Since you're barely more than naked, I'll hit you with the local version of a Shield Charm, too."

"At least I'm wearing pants now," Gellert says, finally conjuring the large magic axe into his hands. "There we go. Hit me, and I'll hit her!"

Sirius casts his spells on Gellert, who doesn't even wait for him to finish before charging into the building, axe raised overhead.

"Insert stereotypical Nord battle cry here!" Gellert screams, narrowly missing the Dunmer woman.

"What the —" she mumbles, drawing her sword and swinging at him, only for her blow to be deflected by Sirius' shield.

I slip on Gellert's left side and shoot a lightning bolt at her. Gellert recovers from his missed swing and brings his axe around to bear again, this time striking true and bringing her down.

"Well, that worked well," Gellert says, looking down at the bloody pieces of the Dunmer woman as he finishes hacking her apart.

"Was it really necessary to dismember her corpse?" Sirius asks.

"No, probably not," Gellert says. "Let's go free those slaves. And if we need to kill anyone else, just give me a few minutes' warning so I can recast my snazzy new axe." He considers. "Have you found a spell to replicate the stunning effect that we used to force a point to reset to yet?"

"I haven't really looked into it yet, but there's got to be something," Sirius says.

Gellert keeps watch at the mine entrance. Sirius and I head in and unlock the bracers of each slave one by one, and slip them away to the entrance under cover of Illusion Magic. The dim conditions inside the mine make it fairly easy to slip away in the shadows. Once we've gotten them all, we head out and meet up with Gellert. Some of the slaves have run off already to take their chances on their own, but others are still here waiting for us, as is Dahleena, who we'd rescued from the shack outside the entrance.

"Dahleena is grateful to you for helping us," the Khajiit says. "You are a good friend of Khajiit. There will be no more mining in Caldera."

"If you need a hand getting out of Morrowind, I've got a friend in Hlormaren who has been helping escaped slaves return home," I say.

"And I'm sure he won't mind helping a few more," Sirius adds with a grin.

"Dahleena, we killed Elynea," I say. "Who else was responsible for the operation of this mine? Who else do we need to kill for this affront to freedom and decency?"

"In the Governor's Hall in Caldera," Dahleena says. "Odral Helvi and Stlennius Vibato are the mine operators. Dahleena wishes to be far away from here before you try to go after them."

"Understood," I say. "I don't think we're prepared to assault a governor's hall just now, but we'll case the place and give you a chance to escape. Once we've made sure you're all out of site, we'll Intervention back to Balmora. Nobody needs to see _us_ walking away from this, either." I sigh. "Is slavery common in Morrowind?"

Dahleena lowers her head. "Yes."

"From the sounds of things, I'm going to be busy, then," I say.

"It's always nice to have targets we can kill without guilt," Gellert says cheerfully.


	6. Starfire

Before leaving Caldera, we stop back in with Folms to grill him for whatever information we can get about the propylon indices. He repeats his description of the network, not remembering his previous conversation, but at least Gellert is here to listen in so I don't have to explain it to _him_ in detail again.

"We've found two of these things so far," I say, holding them up.

"Ah, that's wonderful!" Folms says. "I would like to buy them off of you for further study, and I'll tell you where to find the next one."

"I'm not handing these over," I say. "We're going to want to use them ourselves."

"Well, if I have nothing to study, then I'm not sure that I ought to give you any information, then," Folms says.

I roll my eyes. "I'll be happy to pay you for the information and will work on trying to find a way to duplicate these. And if you like, I can teleport you to one of the propylon chambers so you can study it directly. We're planning to hold Hlormaren so that no other unwelcome influences take root in there, so it should remain safe for the moment."

"Hmm, I do have duties with the guild here, but that would be a difficult opportunity to pass up," Folms says. "I'm certain that the guild can do without me for a few days, at least. Very well, I accept your offer. Give me a day to wrap up some things here and let people know I'll be gone for a while and you can take me over there tomorrow."

"Sounds good," I say.

We return to Balmora, and before doing anything else, I drag Gellert into the basement to make sure he can cast the teleport spells they offer. While I'm sure I could teach him myself, I don't really feel up to teaching something I can barely do myself just now.

We spend the remainder of the day at the Mages Guild getting Gellert caught up on the basic spells and information we've learned so far so he's not feeling quite as lost. And we're probably going to have to repeat that with every one of our friends we find, but at least it seems like _anyone_ in this universe can learn magic, even if they're a big, brute Nord who has never cast a spell in his life. While I have nothing against Muggles or anything, that's kind of refreshing. I do just hope at least some of them knew some magic in their previous lives, or have spent some time practicing on their own.

"I'm not sure how briefly reflecting spells is supposed to make me better at casting teleport spells, but I'll take your word on that," Gellert comments.

Estirdalin says with some patience, "Sometimes the connections between spells is not obvious to a novice mage such. Or, not really a mage at all, in a case such as yourself."

"Hey, just because I'm a shitty mage doesn't mean I'm not a mage," Gellert retorts.

"Each spell builds upon each other in order to form a stronger whole," Estirdalin goes on. "I will admit that, for someone who claims to be a poor mage, your rate of picking up new spells is remarkable. Are you certain that you did not have previous training?"

"I'm a prodigy!" Gellert says.

"As you say," Estirdalin says dubiously.

Come morning, we decide to all head over to Hlormaren, enticing Hermione with the promise of being able to read Tom's books. This, of course, means that I need to take them over one by one, since I'm the only one with a Mark there and I can't manage to get more than one of them to teleport with me with a single Recall spell. That's definitely annoying. I wonder if I can research a stronger version of it?

"If we're going to be having more guests over, I'm going to have to hide the undead in the sewers," Tom says.

"You still have those?" I wonder.

"Of course," Tom says. "You never know when a small army of undead will come in handy."

"I suppose," I say. "Did the former slaves from Caldera make it here alright?"

Tom nods. "They're here. And we purchased a boat from Hla Oad to help ferry slaves out of here, too. This stronghold is conveniently built on top of a waterway."

With them settled in, I also take a trip over to Caldera to bring Folms over to look at the propylon chamber. I feel like I'm turning into a chauffeur here.

"This is fascinating," Folms says. "Are you certain that you will not allow me to study the indices themselves?"

I sigh and hand them over. "We don't need the Hlormaren one right now since we've got Marks here for the moment. And the Andasreth pillar is right here, so you can always hand it over when we want to use it."

"Many thanks," Folms says. "I'll tell you whatever I find out, then. I believe another of the indices belongs to a Telvanni wizard by the name of Baladas Demnevanni. You may be able to convince him to sell it. He's currently living in Gnisis."

I nod, wondering if Telvanni is another race of people I haven't met yet, but feeling too silly to ask outright and brand myself even more of an 'outlander' than I already look.

"There'll be beds and food inside the main building, too," I add. "It looks like the bandit bodies have been cleared out, at least."

"I hope you did not have too much trouble reclaiming the fort," Folms says.

I shrug. He doesn't need to know about me getting my skull crushed by an orc with a warhammer. "We'll have to see about reclaiming the rest of them, too, if we want to use the propylon network. This lot was just some bandits, doubtless preying on travelers in the area."

I head into the main building to start getting things set up. I declare the room on the right to be the library, the room on the left to be the war room, and the big room in the middle to be the general common area and mess hall. The upper floor I reserve for bedrooms and storage. We're going to need to do a lot of remodeling, and maybe put in some rugs and tapestries to make things more homey.

Over in the war room, Sirius, Tom, and Gellert are working on getting things set up.

"Alright, I think I've nailed this map finally," Sirius says, gesturing grandiosely over a large map that has been set up on a table in the middle of the room. "I'd love to set it up so that I can give each of you a map and have it automagically update the big one with whatever you see, but I haven't quite gotten the communication working yet. If I could do that, we'd be able to communicate with linked journals as well like we did before. But, I can set up each individual map to record whatever is around it and let you effectively dump that information into the war room map when you return to headquarters."

"Great work, Sirius," I say, then glance aside toward Gellert. "We really need to be a little more discreet in our spell training. I think Estirdalin is starting to suspect something."

Tom groans. "What did Gellert do this time?"

"Aside from instantly picking up spells and claiming not to have prior magical training at all?" I say with a smirk. "Nothing much. At the very least, she thinks you're a liar. At least she knew me, Hermione, and Sirius were already mages."

"You know, it's easier to believe someone is a liar than a time traveler from another universe," Gellert says.

"Well, true, but we don't really need the extra suspicion or attention," I say.

"You worry too much," Gellert says. "Where to next?"

"I'm going to stay here and work on this for the moment," Sirius says. "And get those maps ready for everyone. Do make sure Gellert doesn't do anything stupid while you're out murder-dating."

"If you go killing anymore bandits or slavers, could you bring me back some more corpses?" Tom asks.

I groan. "I am not bringing you corpses to reanimate, Tom."

"Not even a few?"

I put my face in my palm. "Come on, Gellert. Ald'ruhn is next on the itinerary."

* * *

The Mages Guild in Ald'ruhn might be the largest one I've seen yet, with a walkway running along the edge of a large, open common area in the middle and private rooms along the side. As Gellert and I head down the stairs, one dark elf woman waves over to us, and winks. With a faint grin, we head over to her table and take a seat.

"Who might you be, outlanders?" the Dunmer woman asks. "New mages?"

"Lexen Skywalker, and Gellert," I say, gesturing to the man who is currently making a goofy expression.

"I'm Kirlin Surana," the Dunmer woman says. "But if you like, you can call me Starfire."

That was the name Luna called… "Cassie?" I whisper.

Kirlin nods. "Nice to meet you. What sort of magic are you interested in?"

"Me, all sorts, really, but I specialize in Destruction Magic," I say. "My friend here isn't really much of a mage—"

Gellert sticks out his tongue.

"—but he uses Conjuration and a few utility spells."

"I mostly deal with Restoration and Mysticism, as a member of the Tribunal Temple," Kirlin says.

"You're a priest?" I ask.

Kirlin nods. "But I like coming in here to study now and then. It has a different sort of atmosphere, and other sorts of books available."

"Have you done any adventuring?" I ask.

Kirlin shakes her head. "But I've thought about it. It sounds ever so exciting, to get out in the world and see strange things and new places. But I didn't want to go alone."

"You're welcome to join up with my group if you like," I say. "We could really use a healer better than, well, me."

Kirlin's eyes widen and she beams brightly. "Really? You wouldn't mind having me along? I'm not very good at fighting but I'm sure I could be of some help."

"Hey, if you can heal up all my stupid, embarrassing injuries, you're more than welcome, I say," Gellert adds.

A robed human woman comes up to our table and says, "You three are being very loud. People are trying to read here, and you are interrupting my studies."

"Sorry, Edwinna," Kirlin says. "I got a little excited."

"We were just leaving," Gellert says.

"I do want to check in with the spell trainers first, but yes," I say.

"Hmph," Edwinna says. "If you're going out, perhaps you could run an errand for me."

"Guild duties?" I say. "Sure, what is it?"

"I need a copy of the book _Chronicles of Nchuleft_ ," Edwinna says. "It is very important for the continuation of my studies on the Dwemer, and I need it as quickly as possible."

"Oh, you're the one Arch-Mage Trebonius asked me to talk to about the Dwarven research," I say, wondering if 'Dwemer' is another name for the Dwarves but not wanting to ask.

"Did he, now?" Edwinna says. "I'm surprised that the man has finally taken an interest in my scholarship."

"I'm not sure how much interest he actually showed, there," I say. "I think he just wanted to get rid of me."

"Well, regardless, if you're here to help, I won't complain of why," Edwinna says. She pulls out a pouch of money and hands it over to me. "You can probably find it in a bookshop somewhere. This should cover the purchase cost."

"Alright then," I say. "I'll see if I can find it and return with it shortly."

"Nchulft," Gellert tries to repeat. "Nchleft. How do you spell that?"

"Nchuleft," I enunciate carefully. Then it dawns on me that the name _does_ sound a little familiar. "It means Bright Boon."

Edwinna's head snaps up. _That_ got her attention. "So you _are_ actually a scholar of the Dwemer?"

"I'm a linguist, really," I say.

Honestly, looking like an adult with an uncertain past makes claiming to be a linguist easier. I don't know if anyone in _this_ universe would buy the 'magical talent to speak any language' bullshit I gave at Hogwarts. I'm surprised anyone in _that_ universe bought it. Goes to show how much weirdness they didn't really understand went on around there.

"We'll need to compare notes on Dwemeris later, then," Edwinna says.

"Whenever you have time, I'll be happy to be of whatever help I can," I say.

I ask around the guild hall about spell training, in particular about a stun or sleep spell, and I'm pointed to an Argonian named Heem-La.

"Always happy to learn new spells," Gellert says. "And this one sounds particularly fun!"

"And how many tries will it take you to get it off?" I ask.

Gellert pauses thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm probably not going to be putting anyone to sleep who has a sword pointed at me."

"I'm sure _I_ can manage it, though," Kirlin says.

While Kirlin and I are talking with Heem-La, Gellert is behind us continuing to try to get the spell to work. Then suddenly a wave of drowsiness comes over me, and I black out.

* * *

I wake up on the floor.

"Maybe if you wanted to learn a sleep spell so badly, you should learn a spell to wake people up, too," Kirlin is saying. "Ah, are you awake again finally?"

"Well, at least we know the spell works, now," I say. "No harm done."

"You should be more careful when practicing magic," Heem-La says.

"Bah, it's not like it was going to actually hurt him, anyway," Gellert says.

"What if something had gone wrong and the spell did not have the effect you intended?" Heem-La says. "What if he could not wake up on his own? Be careful!"

"Yeah, yeah," Gellert says, waving him off. "I get the point." He looks to us. "Do we have everything we need here? Come on, let's go."

"One more thing," I say. "Is there an Imperial Cult shrine nearby?"

Heem-La nods. "There's one in Buckmoth Legion Fort, not far from town."

"Excellent, thank you," I say.

"We should go find that book for Edwinna first," Kirlin says. "Do you know where there's a bookstore?"

"Let's check if there's one in town, first," I say.

We head out into the streets. Ald'ruhn is located in a very barren, dusty climate, and the buildings are quite different from the ones I'd seen elsewhere. They look kind of like they're made of the shells of giant bugs. They probably _are_ made of the shells of giant bugs or something. Between them, the only things I can spot growing are black vines with long thorns and large rust-colored ferns.

"I'd like to poke my head into each pub in town, too, to see if there's anyone I recognize," I say.

"Don't bother," Kirlin says quietly. "I already did."

"Oh," I say. "You thought of that, too?"

"I _know_ you people," Kirlin says with a smirk. "So how have things been going?"

"Quite well, I think," I say. "We've made good progress on various projects. Sirius has made a lovely map. I'll have to show it to you. Hermione has been doing quite a bit of studying lately. Tom has been pretty busy, too."

Unspoken are the ones we have yet to find. We're in public, and trying to be as vague and normal as possible since there are people that will be overhearing us. We'll be able to speak freely and share our knowledge in a bit.

There's one bookstore in town, and they don't have a copy of the _Chronicles of Nchuleft_. We head back to the guild hall and return to Balmora, and check the bookshop across the street from the Mages Guild there. Sure enough, there's a copy, so we grab it and head back.

"Ah, back already?" Edwinna says as she gratefully takes the book from me. "You're quite efficient. Now I know who to ask if I ever need anything else found."

"Yep, he's an expert in finding things, alright," Gellert says. "Even if you don't think they _exist_ , sometimes he manages to find them anyway."

Before I can get roped into doing anything else, I practically drag Gellert and Kirlin out of the door again and head toward the legion fort.

"I'd really like to learn this spell," I say. "More transportation options is a must, and maybe we can figure out just how it actually _works_."

On the way there, a two-legged reptile charges in out of nowhere and gores me with its long tusks before I even have a chance to conjure a weapon.

* * *

I wake on the floor with a groan.

"You need to be careful when practicing magic," Heem-La is telling us again.

It takes Gellert and Kirlin a moment to catch what they were doing a moment ago, and while Gellert is assuring the Argonian that he'll be careful in the future, I'm already heading for the guild guide. I take a quick hop over to Balmora and am back with the book in question by the time they can stop arguing.

"There you go," I say, handing it over to Edwinna.

"Oh!" Edwinna says. "You're very efficient."

"Yes, they say I'm good at finding things," I say. "If you need anything else, let me know. I have a few things to take care of in the meantime. Pardon me."

I drag my friends outside again. "What was that?" I hiss.

"A kagouti," Kirlin says quietly. "Nasty creatures."

"Alright, we'll just have to be careful," I say. "Let's head for the fort and keep an eye out for kagoutis."

We almost manage to avoid it the second time, but it still locates us and comes out from around a sharp hill. We're prepared now, though, and while the result is still painful, at least this time we manage to win. Kirlin is casting healing spells at me as I head inside the fort.

The construction of the Imperial forts reminds me of any random castle I might have seen in Britain, quite unlike the native Dunmer construction. Honestly, at this point, I'm almost starting to prefer the feel of Dunmer buildings, though. It almost seems _wrong_ to plop a fort made of stacked blocks down in the middle of Morrowind's ashen wastelands, hang an Imperial banner from it and call the place yours.

Inside, the place is incredibly confusing, and we wind up wandering around and having to ask a few people for directions and in the end, it's the last guy we speak to in a side room we'd overlooked that is the one willing to tell us about the Divine Intervention spell. I'm starting to realize just what these spells have in common and why we need to learn them here. The Mark spell creates a beacon. These shrines have been set up as beacons for the Intervention spells. I'm also suddenly reminded of how I was told the Nexus worked when returning to it, which the Elkandu also called Recall — they described it like returning to a beacon.

That done, we leave the fort and I make for the silt strider.

"At least we won't _forget_ how to do that now," I mumble.

"'Divine Intervention' seems an awfully impressive name for what is really just a teleport spell," Gellert comments.

"I'd imagine it got called that because you're praying to get out of danger," Kirlin suggests.

"Suppose," Gellert says, then stops as he sees the silt strider standing by the town wall. "That thing is _alive_?" As if in response, the silt strider lets out a haunting, echoing bellow.

I chuckle. "Yup. We'll be taking that to Gnisis."

"What do we need in Gnisis?" Kirlin asks.

"We're going to see a Telvanni by the name of Baladas," I say. "There's a project we're working on. I'll show you later."

We climb up the stairs to the silt strider and Gellert gets a good look at the inside of the giant bug, and raises an eyebrow.

"How is this thing even still alive?" Gellert wonders.

Kirlin giggles and shares a look with the caravaner. "Outlanders."

"We're heading for Gnisis," I say with a smirk. "How much?"

"Twenty drakes," the caravaner says, taking Gellert's puzzlement in stride. "Climb on in."

I pay the man, and we get in. Gellert proceeds to spend the entire trip poking the silt strider curiously. It seems Kirlin is the only one of us I've encountered so far who seems to actually have been from Morrowind. Maybe having someone in our group who isn't an 'outlander' will prove beneficial at some point.

It's a foggy day when we arrive in Gnisis, a clean and salty sea mist hanging in the air, unlike the parched dusty air around Ald'ruhn. The buildings here sport the same design, though, and it takes a bit of asking around to get pointed in the right direction. There's a low, round tower to one side of the town where Baladas is said to live, and we head inside.

The tower is nearly deserted but for some rats and skeletons. I would ask him why he has literal skeletons in his closets if it wouldn't require admitting I was poking into his closets in the first place. Besides, it's not like I can talk. I have zombies in my basement. We head up the ramp toward the top of the tower. That was where he was most likely to be anyway. But the door to the top room is locked.

"Are we sure this isn't just a storage attic?" Kirlin wonders.

"We've been in every other room in the tower," I say.

"Isn't it just a little rude to barge in, though?" Kirlin asks. "We should at least knock. Here, I'll knock." She goes up to the door and raps her hand against it three times, then steps back.

"Nobody _else_ seems to mind terribly much if I barge in on them," I mumble.

We wait a minute. No response. Kirlin goes up and knocks again. This time, after a minute, the door is opened by a large reptilian creature like a bipedal crocodile. Kirlin jumps back in surprise, but the creature isn't attacking us.

"Wh—Why does Baladas have a daedroth as his doorman?" Kirlin stammers.

"I don't imagine he gets a lot of solicitors that way," Gellert says with a grin, heading inside unfazed.

Up another ramp, we find a Dunmer man at a table surrounded by bookshelves. A large, brass sphere sits off to one side, and as I'm looking at it, it unfolds into a mechanical being for a moment, rolls back and forth, then folds up again.

"Baladas, I presume?" Gellert says.

"I'm Baladas Demnevanni. What do you want? Why are you bothering me?"

"I don't mean to intrude," I say. "We were looking for a propylon index that we heard you had."

"Oh, that thing?" Baladas says dismissively. "Yes, it's somewhere around here gathering dust. You're welcome to it."

Gellert doesn't hesitate to go over to the bookcases and start poking around.

"Just don't touch anything else," Baladas says impatiently.

Gellert picks up a book and holds it in front of him.

Baladas rolls his eyes. "Fine, you can touch that, too, if you insist."

"Also, out of curiosity, do you happen to have a copy of _Chronicles of Nchuleft_?" I ask. Sure, Edwinna got her copy, but I'm sure Hermione would love to have one.

"No, I'm afraid not, although I'd like to get my hands on a copy," Baladas says, his expression softening a touch. "You're a Dwemer scholar, I take it?"

"I'm a linguist," I say. "I've done quite a bit of study on the Dwemer language. I'd be happy to help if you need anything translated."

Baladas grunts. "No one truly knows the Dwemer language, and it might at this point be impossible to fully piece it together, but if your understanding is better than most, then I appreciate the offer."

"Hey, can this outlander ask a stupid question?" Gellert says, raising a hand. "What's a Telvanni?"

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "Sorry about him. He's a bit blunt sometimes."

"At least he says what he means, I suppose," Baladas says. "One cannot expect much of a Nord. I take it you keep him around for his combat ability and not the grace of his tongue."

"Oh, I'm sure he likes the grace of my tongue, too," Gellert says, grinning wildly.

I put my face in both palms. "Gellert, if you don't be silent, I am going to commit suicide from embarrassment."

"Yeah, sorry, don't mean to ruin your conversation or anything," Gellert says with a smirk, then turns to Baladas. "Don't listen to me. I'm quite mad."

"You're quite annoying is what you are," Kirlin says. "You know, _I_ could have told you what a Telvanni was, if you'd just thought to ask me."

Baladas sighs. "I will answer him. I am a member of Great House Telvanni. Although I have little interest in their affairs these days, I am still a Telvanni, regardless. We are primarily a house of mages, and we like to be left alone to study." He looks pointedly at Gellert. "Some of us _are_ quite mad, though."

"It was the fifty years in prison," Gellert says. "I was relatively sane before then."

Baladas raises an eyebrow. "I am no expert on Nord ages, but I did not believe that your kind still looked so young after that long."

"Gellert…" I say.

"Can we just try this conversation again?" Gellert asks.

"Gellert, damnit, I thought we agreed not to abuse time travel—"

"I thought we agreed to abuse time travel!" Gellert says. "Look, let's just go back and say something else so we don't piss him off again."

"You know, he's standing right there," I say.

Baladas is, by this point, thoroughly confused. "You are capable of time travel? And you are using it to … alter conversations?"

"Yes, of all the stupid things we could be using it for," I say. "And no, before you ask, we can't use it to go back thousands of years to talk to living Dwemer or anything like that. We can only go back a few hours at most. I _really_ wasn't planning on letting anyone else know about it in this life, though."

"Can we take a mulligan here?" Gellert says.

"I agree," Kirlin says.

"This isn't a vote, guys," I say.

"For what it's worth, I find this conversation fascinating enough to forgive your brief indiscretion," Baladas says. "Do tell me more about your apparently casual, easily repeatable time travel."

"I'm not casually willing to tell my secrets to people," I say. "But seeing as you already know, and I have half a mind to make Gellert live with his foolish tongue, I see no reason why not."

"The others aren't going to like this, either," Kirlin says.

"You have a secret society of time travelers?" Baladas asks.

"Okay, let me explain this more plainly," I say. "It's not just time travel. I'm immortal. I cannot die. Time rejects my death. I go back to a few hours before I died and can make a different choice."

"Lexen, I'm resetting now," Kirlin says.

I turn around to see her pull out a knife and, almost casually, cut her own throat. The world winks out, but not before treating me to that horrible sight.

* * *

I wake on the floor of the Mages Guild in Ald'ruhn.

I'm too positively stunned to listen to Heem-La lecturing us about spell safety again. Gellert is uncharacteristically quiet, almost shell-shocked.

Kirlin recovers first, and just says, "I'm going to go get that book for Edwinna."

While she goes and does that, I drag Gellert off into one of the private side rooms, not giving a fuck who it might actually belong to.

"Gellert, what was that?" I ask.

Gellert throws up his hands. "I can't help myself! I'm a dick who gives no fucks what he says to anyone, for any reason."

"No, not that," I say. "You casually spilling the beans about your prison time."

"Oh," Gellert says. "That."

"I've been _trying_ to keep things like that quiet," I say.

"I should just stay behind or be quiet when you're talking to people you don't want to piss off," Gellert says. "But I was curious."

"I understand that," I say with a sigh, leaning back against the wall. "That man is a powerful mage, and I definitely would rather have him as an ally than an enemy, and I definitely do not want him to know about certain things until I know how he might react to them and whether he can be trusted."

"He didn't seem to react badly," Gellert says. "I mean, all things considered, he seemed more confused and curious than actually upset."

"And any of us can reset, for any reason," I say quietly. "It's a wonder we haven't been getting jerked around more."

"I don't imagine most of them feel the need to change stuff much," Gellert mutters. "I mean, Luna? She just goes with any stupid thing that happens, doesn't bother her any."

"I don't know how this is going to work," I say.

"You take things too seriously," Gellert says.

"You don't take things seriously enough," I say.

Gellert frowns. "Are you trying to break up with me?"

I'm quiet for a long moment, staring at him.

"Are you at least going to make me stay at our stronghold and not go out and have fun?" Gellert asks.

I slump down on the bed, not caring whose bed it actually is. "I don't think it would be _possible_ to break up with you even if I were so inclined. And I'm certainly not going to suggest us spending a few days, weeks, years apart to cool off, either. Look, I think we just need to compromise a bit here."

"What, I pipe down a little and you lighten up some?" Gellert says with a grin.

I chuckle. "I think the latter is more likely than the former."

"Oh ye of little faith," Gellert says.

"You get too used to the idea of your actions having no consequences," I say.

"I know," Gellert says. "You've said all this before."

"I've lost count of how many times," I say. "And I don't know that saying it again will really help, either. And you know what the worst of this is?"

"What's that?" Gellert wonders.

"We have to ride the silt strider again."


	7. The Great Houses

"I think we all owe one another a few apologies," Kirlin says.

We're a short ways out of town near the silt strider, and although I'm concerned about random kagouti attacks, it's not concerned enough not to have the chance to speak freely.

Gellert takes a deep breath. "I apologize for being indiscreet. I will try not to let things slip without thinking it through or discussing things first. And maybe try harder not to greatly annoy the people Lexen is trying to ally."

"I apologize for freaking out about wanting to try again," I say. "And will try to be more willing to go along with it in the future." I pin her with a look. "I keep forgetting you're secretly the scariest of us, though."

"And I apologize for forcing the issue," Kirlin says. "It did seem the best option at the time, though."

"You _are_ right," I say. "It's just hard for me to treat it so casually, no matter how many times we discuss it. But I _would_ prefer if we would at least attempt to take a nap before doing anything potentially dangerous or requiring a delicate touch."

"I'll keep an eye out for a way to wake you up again afterward, so you don't oversleep, though," Kirlin says.

Even though we're pretty sure no one is in earshot, no one wants to come right out and say the words 'time travel' right now, not even Gellert.

"I didn't even have a chance to get a good look around Gnisis and see if any of our friends were there," I mumble.

"Don't worry, I already did that when I came through myself," Gellert says. "Gnisis was where I met that witch."

"Then why didn't you take the silt strider?" I wonder.

"You know, it never occurred to me that the weird thing on stilts was actually a giant bug, or that it was a mode of transportation," Gellert comments.

"Well, unless you'd really rather walk, we're going to be taking it again," I say. "And with kagouti roaming around, I'd rather not walk."

"I'll get used to it," Gellert says.

We head up the ramp to the silt strider again, pay the caravaner, and get inside.

"So, what _is_ a Great House, anyway?" Gellert asks, apparently deciding to spend the trip asking questions that we wouldn't mind anyone overhearing.

"They're effectively the main political groups in Morrowind," Kirlin explains. "There's five of them: Hlaalu, Redoran, Telvanni, Dres, and Indoril. The latter two don't have any holdings in Vvardenfell, though. We're currently in Redoran territory. Up until very recently, none of them had claim over Vvardenfell. The Temple used to administer this area and forbade settlement here."

"Do you belong to a Great House, Kirlin?" I ask.

Kirlin shakes her head. "I generally preferred to leave the politics alone. I'm a member of the Tribunal Temple and the Mages Guild."

"Do they take outlanders?" Gellert asks.

"The ones in Vvardenfell do, I believe," Kirlin says. "I'm not so sure about Dres and Indoril, but I doubt it."

"And would there be some benefit to doing so?" Gellert goes on.

Kirlin shrugs. "I'm sure each of them would be rewarding in their own way. Not belonging to one, I could not give you more detail."

"Can you give me a rough rundown of what each of them is like?" Gellert asks.

"Well, for starters, the Redoran are all about honor and upholding the law," Kirlin says.

Gellert makes a face. "Boooo-ring."

"The Hlaalu are quite wealthy, and more into the mercantile business, as well as having strong ties to the Empire," Kirlin says. "They'd probably be the easiest for an outlander to get involved with if you were so inclined."

"Merchants?" Gellert says in disinterest. "Really?"

"Well, there's rumor that some of their gains are ill-gotten, but I wouldn't rely on them being substantial," Kirlin says with a shrug.

"And the Telvanni?" Gellert asks.

"Mages," Kirlin says. "They're more interested in magical study and personal power than anything else, so far as I've heard. They generally keep to themselves, but if you're interested in magic, they might have good opportunities for training. I wouldn't know how that compares to the Mages Guild, though."

"They definitely sound interesting," Gellert says. "So, Dres and Indoril?"

"The Dres are slavers and the Indoril are very religious," Kirlin says flatly.

"Pass," Gellert says.

I absently wonder if I'm going to have to wipe out House Dres. An entire Great House seems a bit much to tackle right now, though. Maybe I'll think about it once I have an army at my back. Right now, I'll just stick with dealing with slavers one cave or stronghold at a time. I'm just an adventurer right now, not a general. Yet, at least.

"You say that like you aren't fond of them," I say. "Didn't you say you were a member of the Temple?"

"They're a bit much sometimes," she says. "I'm more about helping people."

"We're coming up on Gnisis now," the caravaner says.

We arrive in Gnisis and disembark. This time, before heading straight for Baladas' tower, we stop by the temple in town to see if anyone can help us with a spell to wake someone up. Naturally, once Kirlin figures it out, she proceeds to test it by putting me to sleep and waking me up again several times.

"Okay, can I stay awake for five minutes now?" I ask.

"I just wanted to make sure it worked properly," Kirlin says with a grin.

"Yes, much appreciated," I say, then reach into my pack and pull out _The Pilgrim's Path_. "There's one of those shrines here, isn't there?"

"I didn't realize you joined the Tribunal Temple," Kirlin says.

"Why?" Gellert asks. "You never struck me as the religious sort."

I shrug. "Why not? It seemed like the thing to do."

I put away my book and go purchase a potion of cure disease, and offer it at the shrine on the top floor. The stories in that book are all full of allegory and metaphor, and while I can believe something resembling those events might have taken place, it's hard to take them literally. Even if that metaphor is something about a weird mask made of ash, and there's clearly an ash mask here.

"You ought to at least read some of the other books here," Kirlin says. "If you're going to be a member of the temple, you should know the tenets it stands for."

"I haven't really had time for a lot of reading," I say.

"Why don't you sit down and open a book while I go get the index?" Kirlin says, then looks pointed at Gellert. "And _you_ go get a drink or stay out of trouble somehow."

"But I want to go talk to Baladas!" I protest.

"Didn't you notice that he really just wants to be left alone?" Kirlin says.

"Aww," I say.

"Let's do him a favor and not annoy him for the moment, shall we?" Kirlin says.

Gellert raises a hand. "I'll just stay here and read and stay out of trouble, too."

Kirlin stares at him as though he's just grown a second head, then just heads out.

I pick up the closest book and take a look at it. _The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec: Sermon Twenty-One_. I guess Vivec must have had a lot to say. I open it up and read the first lines.

"The Scripture of the Wheel, first: 'The Spokes of the wheel are the eight components of chaos, as yet solidified by the laws of time—"

I almost drop the book. This is clearly more allegory and metaphor, but it's metaphor that I _recognize_. The rest of the book is nonsensical and I don't really understand it, but there has to be _something_ to it. What did Vivec _know_?

Kirlin returns shortly and hands the propylon index to me. "So, read anything good?"

"I read some fascinating things about the Daedra," Gellert says.

I don't reply, and just hand her _Sermon Twenty-One_.

She raises an eyebrow, opens it up, then raises the other eyebrow. "That's… interesting."

"I think I need to find the rest of these sermons," I say.

* * *

When we return to Hlormaren, Sirius has a few maps ready for us. He also seems a little startled when he sees Kirlin and finds out who she is.

"Cassie?" Sirius says. "Is my dear daughter a Dunmer now?"

"Apparently so," Kirlin says. "And you're all a bunch of outlanders."

Sirius snickers. "Well, either way, it's good to see you. It's been a confusing as fuck past week."

"Dare I ask what killed you out there?" Tom asks.

"A kagouti," I say.

"And Gellert's indiscretion," Kirlin says.

"Don't ask," Gellert says.

"Well, I've got three maps made now," Sirius says. "I plan to see if I can tie them in with a Detect Creatures spell, but haven't quite gotten to that yet. If nothing else, though, they'll keep you from getting lost. And if I can get one detect spell woven in there, I could also include one that detects enchanted objects, too… At any rate, it does automatically map the area around you, at least insofar as what you can see. It'll only _sometimes_ get past walls or doors. And you can update the maps by touching them to the big map."

"That's excellent," I say. "I have a side task for you, if you're up for it."

"Oh?" Sirius says.

"I want you to steal books," I say.

"Well, I was already planning on doing that," Sirius says. "I'll never hear the end of it if Hermione runs out of things to read."

"I'd like to get as complete a collection as possible as we can in here, and I'm quite sure that a lot of the ones we might really want aren't going to be being sold anywhere for any price." I glance aside at Kirlin. "We don't need to go buying all the books we might want, either. If you hadn't insisted it was so urgent, I'd have just found a copy to steal somewhere."

"Edwinna _did_ say that time was of the essence, and just going to a bookshop was the most expedient way," Kirlin says with a shrug. "You owe me two hundred and fifty drakes, by the way."

"I paid for all your spell training," I point out. "And since when have any of us actually cared who has how much money?"

Sirius says, "I'm going to start poking into places to see what I can get away with stealing. Not just books, of course, but I'll definitely be 'shopping' for them."

"I want you in particular keep an eye out for the _Thirty-Six Sermons of Vivec_ ," I say tell Sirius.

"Sermons?" Sirius repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't think you were the religious sort."

"There's something _odd_ about those sermons," I say. "And I aim to figure out what.'

"As you say," Sirius says. "I'll keep an eye out."

"So, does anyone care to fill me in on what you've all learned so far?" Kirlin says. "And specifically, who you wound up being in this universe and your backgrounds."

We give her a summary, which winds up leading around to me and Caius.

"You haven't gone back to ask him what he wants?" Kirlin says.

"He told me to establish a cover identity," I say. "You don't just do that in a few days. Those sorts of things take weeks, months, even years."

"Just so long as he doesn't die of old age while waiting for you to establish your cover identity," Kirlin says with a smirk.

"That… _probably_ won't happen," I say. "I'd also like to go see where I get some more information about House Telvanni."

"Me, too," Gellert says.

"What's this, now?" Tom asks. "You're planning to join a Great House?"

"I'm planning on getting information to decide whether I want to join a Great House," I say.

"Let me know how it turns out," Tom says. "And find the rest of those indices, too. I'd like a way to get around that doesn't rely on the Mages Guild that I don't want looking at me too hard, and is quicker than the silt striders."

"I'll keep an eye out for those, myself," Sirius says. "Folms mentioned a couple places to look, one of which was in Vivec, and I was planning to go to Vivec anyway to rob everyone I could get away with. I'll be sure to bring back plenty of books."

"Sirius, if you rob the temple library, someone is going to notice," Kirlin says with a smirk.

Sirius grins. "Only if I stole the entire library. A book here and there might just have been 'misplaced' and might not even be noticed for months, depending on how much dust is on it or how many copies they have of it."

"We only need one copy of _A Brief History of the Empire_ , however many volumes it has," I say. "Gods, and I thought _Hogwarts: A History_ was a door stopper."

"Plus, I need to make sure Remus isn't hanging around there somewhere," Sirius says. "I'm getting a little worried about him."

"He's probably safer than we are, given the amount of stupid shit we get up to," I say.

* * *

Gellert and I return to Balmora to go take the guild guide to Sadrith Mora, the one town on Vvardenfell that she can teleport us to that we haven't been yet and also the seat of House Telvanni. Kirlin has decided to stay behind and get settled in at Hlormaren while we go on ahead. I don't think she's quite as enthusiastic about this as we are.

When we arrive at the Mages Guild in Sadrith Mora, at first I'm disappointed that this looks like another typical Imperial building, all stacked blocks and cobblestone floors, up until I step outside and realize that this is just another imperial fort near the city and not the city itself.

When I come into view of Sadrith Mora proper, I cannot be more shocked that I thought the Hlaalu and Redoran styles were strange. All of the 'buildings' as such in town are growing things, something like a plant or a fungus, I'm not entirely sure which, or some combination thereof. Forget architecture, _this_ is interesting. Domed mushroom caps make up roofs, vines coil along the ground and make up bridges, and round doors provide entrance into the fat trunks or stems.

"Mushrooms?" Gellert says. "Are those mushrooms? I think they're mushrooms."

"I don't know what they are, but they are _so cool_ ," I say. "Now, you remember your deal?"

"Don't piss off anyone we're trying to make nice with," Gellert says. "And you remember yours?"

"Don't complain if you want to give it another try," I say.

I go up to a guard to ask for directions, but the only reply I get is, "Find someone else to bother."

The next person I attempt to ask is a wood elf woman tending a market stall. "Excuse me, I'm just looking for directions here."

"You'll probably want the Gateway Inn, then," she replies. "That's the only place non-Telvanni are allowed to sleep in the city. Well, technically, non-Telvanni aren't supposed to be in the city itself without Hospitality Papers at all, but they generally don't care all that much if you're not causing trouble."

"And, let me guess, the Gateway Inn is that building with the huge gateway?" Gellert says.

I snicker softly. "Excellent deductive skills. Let's go."

As we're heading over that way, I overhear a passing guard utter, "Outlanders," in our general direction. Except, something's not right about that. He said that in a different language.

I pause, and hold up a hand to Gellert to stop walking as I frown, then retort to the guard in the same language, "You're just as much an outlander here as us."

The guard flinches and steps back as if stuck, then leaves quickly.

"What did you say to him?" Gellert asks. "And what's an ' _n'wah'_?"

"Outlander, basically," I say. "If you ever want to really annoy a Dunmer here, call them that."

"I thought we were trying to have me _not_ annoy people?" Gellert says. "You're giving me mixed signals here?"

I grin wickedly. "Some people just deserve to be annoyed."

We head over to the large building with an enormous round gateway. Multiple pods grow around the sides, and stairways wind up to the doors. The huge gateway itself doesn't actually seem to be to the inn, but to the city, as it leads out to the docks. But as we didn't arrive by the docks, we have to walk out through the gateway to get to the stairs winding up to the entrance.

A Dunmer man stands inside, and greets us, "Ah, good day, outlanders. I am Angaredhel, proprietor of the Gateway Inn. Are you looking for Hospitality Papers?"

"What are the Hospitality Papers for?" Gellert wonders.

"They permit you to conduct business in town," Angaredhel says. "Out-house and outlander guests are required to—"

"Ah, there you are," says a woman's voice, interrupting him. The voice belongs to a little fair-skinned elf woman who practically skips down the stairs and smiles at me with a very familiar dreamy expression. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Luna!" I exclaim. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Luna waves off Angaredhel. "Never mind the fees. They're with me."

"Of course, Luna," Angaredhel says, stepping back.

"Please, come back to my room," Luna says. "We have a lot to discuss."

She leads us up the stairs and down the hallway, to a private room, and closes the door.

"Can we speak freely here?" I ask.

Luna glances around at nothing. "There's no flies on the wall. I think we're safe."

I grin broadly. "So, Luna. An elf?"

"A Bosmer, specifically," Luna says. "Wood elf."

"So, what have you been up to out here?" Gellert says. "I take it you're a Telvanni?"

"I am," Luna says. "I was studying the wildlife of the Grazelands when I Awakened. I expected you'd come to join the Telvanni sooner or later, so I came to Sadrith Mora to wait for you to show up."

"Sound reasoning," I say. "We've taken over a stronghold on the other side of the island, Hlormaren. The only ones we're missing now are Brax, Rispy, and Remus."

"Maybe I can help," Luna says. "I didn't really look too far, since I knew you'd come."

"That'd be great," I say. "It's good to have you back, Luna."

Luna smiles. "What difference a few days or a million years apart?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. " _Were_ you aware of the loops?"

Luna nods. "I was. The time flies were swarming. I waited a long time. But it's alright. I was willing to wait forever. Time would bring you back around to me eventually. And even then, I knew you'd still overlook me if I didn't put myself in your path, so I decided I had to join Slytherin."

"This almost sounds like a love confession," Gellert comments.

"I wanted to see other worlds," Luna says. "Being aware of the time shifts but being unable to grasp them was endlessly frustrating. Like time sand constantly slipping through my fingers. It may have driven me a little mad. But then, we're all a little mad, aren't we?"

"More than a little," Gellert agrees.

"Come on, you wanted to join House Telvanni, didn't you?" Luna says. "I'll show you to the council hall."

"I sure as fuck didn't want to join Redoran," Gellert says. "So, you got status in the House? Can you give us a leg up? Or are you pretty low on the totem pole?"

"The latter," Luna says with a giggle. "I was never concerned with advancing in rank. I just wanted to be left alone to study creatures."

We head out and around down by the water, and across bridges of woody tendrils with flat, green walkways. Inside another large pod-building lies a room with large glowing crystals in the center, and a handful of people standing on platforms around the edge of the room.

"They're the Mouths of the Council," Luna explains. "They speak for their Masters, because their Masters have other things to do than stand around here all day. Talk to them if you want to join."

I approach one of them, who says, "I am Felisa Ulessen, Mouth for Mistress Therana."

"My friend and I here are looking to join House Telvanni," I say.

"Are you certain?" says Felisa. "Perhaps you would like to hear our rules first."

"Let me guess," I say. "Don't kill or steal from your members?"

"Oh, no no, nothing like that," Felisa replies. "We trust members of House Telvanni to use their own judgment. If you stole something from another member and got away with it, clearly you deserved it more. Killing your rivals by magic or treachery is a typical way to resolve disputes."

I blink at him. Clearly I have found the local version of the Sith. No wonder Luna expected we'd want to join.

"I think I speak for both of us when I say 'fuck yes'," Gellert says.

"I wasn't going to put it quite like that, but I concur," I say. "We'll absolutely join."

"Very well," Felisa says. "The two of you are now members of House Telvanni. Speak with me or the other Mouths if you want chores to do for pay."

"Like what sort of chores?" I ask.

"I will pay one thousand drakes to someone who can deliver new clothes to Mistress Therana in Tel Branora," Felisa says.

"Wait a minute," Gellert says. "Either Mistress Therana lives on the other side of Tamriel, or delivering clothing to her can be hazardous."

"No, it's only a quick boat ride away," Felisa says. "She can be… difficult at times. I'd advise being careful if you decide to attempt the delivery."

"Ah, Stendarr's arse, I live for danger," Gellert says. "Hit me."

"This would explain a few things," I comment.

I go and ask around the other Mouths. One of them wants a pile of sload soap, which I dig out of my pack and hand over.

"Where in Oblivion did you get all that sload soap?" Gellert wonders.

"I don't actually remember," I say. "I probably stole it from somewhere like a kleptomaniac adventurer."

"Makes sense to me," Gellert says.

"Do you know what a sload is?" Luna asks brightly.

"Not sure I want to, Luna," I say.

"I'm off to Tel Branora! Toodles!" Gellert says, cheerfully skipping out of the room before I can say anything to stop him.

I just shake my head, then look to Felisa. "Don't mind him. He's completely insane."

"He's in good company, then," Felisa says. "At least the skirt is getting delivered. No one else wanted to do it."

I and Luna rush out of the hall to catch up with him. There are two boats at the docks in Sadrith Mora at the moment, one of them offering rides along the east coast of Vvardenfell, and the other to the mainland. I stand on the dock reconsidering.

"You know what, you can do this," I say. "I'll pass on a boat ride. Hate boats."

Gellert snickers. "Suit yourself. I'm sure I don't really need backup for a potentially hazardous clothing delivery anyway."

I look to the shipmaster. "About how long is a trip to Tel Branora from here?"

"Around eight hours," the shipmaster replies.

"So, I'll get there late in the afternoon," Gellert says. "I'll just Recall once I'm done there."

"I'll just head home and take a nap," I say, then hand him the map. "You'll probably need this more than me."

"Sounds like a splendid plan," Gellert agrees.

"Luna, you with me or him?" I ask.

"I'll go home with you," Luna says with a placid grin.

"Okay," I say, wrapping one arm around her and waving to Gellert with the other. "See you later." I Recall.

* * *

Luna and I appear at Hlormaren. "Here we are," I say. "Hlormaren."

"It's an old place," Luna says. "It has seen a lot of strife." She pauses thoughtfully and looks around. "Also, did you know there are undead in the basement?"

I snicker. "Yeah, they're Tom's."

"Ah, good," Luna says. "No one will invade our stronghold via the sewers, then."

I show her inside to the war room, where Tom is currently poring over the map.

"Sirius has been working on this cool map here," I say. "Ah, hey, Tom."

Tom looks up and over to us. "Have you found a friend here?"

"I'm Luna," she says. "And you're Tom! I'd recognize your aura anywhere, even if it's around a scalier body than usual."

"Locating one another would have been easier if I were better at aura reading," I mutter. "As it is, I still have to squint for a minute to make out each one. Not very subtle for canvassing a town with."

"Don't discount your own talents," Luna says. "We each have our own."

"Tom, we joined the Telvanni," I say. "Well, Luna was apparently already a member, but Gellert and I joined. I think you'll like them."

"I'll have to join up when I get the chance, then," Tom says. "Where's Gellert?"

"He's making a potentially hazardous clothing delivery," I say. "I'm scheduled to take an afternoon nap shortly before he arrives by boat at Tel Branora."

"Clothing delivery?" Tom wonders.

Luna stares off at a wall. "Is that a library over there? The one Starfire and Knower-of-Words are in?"

"You're as bad about giving names as the Argonians," Tom comments.

"Wait, you called Hermione 'Knower-of-Words', but you called He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named 'Tom'," I say.

"Would you prefer Mender-of-Souls?" Luna asks.

"Hmm," Tom says thoughtfully. "That _does_ sound like a suitable alias. I needed a new name, anyway. I still don't trust waltzing through the Balmora Mages Guild even with a disguise, though."

"Oh, did they not like your necromancy?" Luna asks.

"Among other things," Tom says. "I'm not going to wonder how _you_ knew about it."

"I'll show you to the common area," I say. "Let's get lunch."

"Is there pudding?" Luna asks.

"No, I'm afraid not," I say.


	8. Slave Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel obligated at this point to link to a map: [Map of Vvardenfell](http://images.uesp.net//b/bb/MW-Map-Vvardenfell.jpg)

I take a nap shortly before Gellert's boat is scheduled to arrive, not bothering with the spells we'd learned and just taking a normal nap. And it's a good thing I did, too, as an hour after I wake up, I find myself jerked back into my bed. Gellert's clothing delivery must have been as hazardous as he'd suspected it would be.

"Was that something else, or did Gellert actually manage to get killed whilst delivering clothing?" Tom wonders when I come back down to the library.

"The latter, I suspect," I say. "Therana's Mouth did suggests that she would be 'difficult'. And Gellert has a way of pissing people off even when he's not trying to."

"Is there some reason why you let them go and do this himself?" Tom asks.

"Because it would have required a boat ride," I say. "They didn't have any silt striders out that way. And here I was just starting to like silt striders."

Two more resets later leaving me wonder just what in Oblivion Gellert is doing, he reappears at Hlormaren pumping his fist.

"I have gained glorious triumph over the clothing delivery!" Gellert declares.

"Congratulations," I say flatly.

"Turns out Therana doesn't like me dressing in drag," Gellert says. "Alright, let's take a quick nap so I don't have to do that again and then get back to Sadrith Mora."

"Sounds good," I say.

Once we've reported to Felisa about Gellert's heroic quest, I speak with one of the other Mouths, who wants us to go speak with Baladas about his Dwemer research on behalf of Archmagister Gothren.

"Ah, excellent," I say. "I've been wanting to speak with him myself."

We go back to Hlormaren to rest and prepare, as it's pretty late at this point and we figure it would be best to go in the morning.

"You're going back to talk to Baladas?" Sirius asks. "Here, you'll probably want this." He offers a book. "Kirlin mentioned that he wanted a copy of _Chronicles of N-Something_."

"Nchuleft," I say with a smirk. "Dwemer names aren't _that_ difficult, guys. Dare I ask where you got this? And this isn't the only copy you got, is it? Hermione probably wants one for our private library, too."

"Oh, no, I stole two from Vivec," Sirius says. "They had like half a dozen copies. I'm sure they could spare a couple. Nobody saw me and I didn't take much else, so it's all good. At any rate, I stole them from their totally secret library and not the main one, anyway, so they probably won't even notice them missing. Although I'm not sure Hermione will even be able to read it… I took a peek inside and it's all gibberish to me."

"Well, I suppose I can translate it for her, then," I say.

"I got another propylon index while I was in Vivec, too," Sirius says, handing it over to me. "You know, you won't have to take the silt strider to Gnisis. You can just use the propylon chamber to go to Andasreth, then Berandas, which should put you close enough to use Almsivi Intervention to get to their temple."

"Brilliant," I say. "Is Folms still hanging around?"

Sirius nods. "Since we've been so successful in bringing back the indices, he decided to stay on until we'd gotten them all. I'll head with you to Gnisis in the morning and take a silt strider from there to Maar Gan. I don't know whether any of our friends are hanging around there or if there's anything worth stealing, but I'll definitely check it out, and there's another index there."

"And I think _I'll_ stay back this time," Gellert says. "I'm still embarrassed as fuck over what happened there last time."

"I thought you were going to stick with me like a fly on a turd," I say.

"If that causes problems for you, then I'll stay behind if I have to," Gellert says.

"You do not have to stay behind," I say. "Just not slip and mention the wrong thing in front of people."

"Or make lewd comments in front of powerful mages you're trying to impress?" Gellert says.

"That, too," I say.

Hermione raises her hand. "Am I the only one here who doesn't have any interpersonal issues?"

"Apparently," Sirius says.

Luna goes over and puts a hand on Gellert's shoulder, and says quietly. "Relax, Phoenix. The Stormseeker wants you with him, you know. And he needs us to keep him in check, otherwise he might start doing things that are quite mad."

"I'm not even going to dispute that," I say.

* * *

Come morning, I travel through the propylon network and teleport to Gnisis along with Sirius, Gellert, and Luna. Sirius gives us a wave and heads off toward the silt strider, leaving the rest of us to go visit Baladas.

"I'll be on my best behavior," Gellert mutters.

"That's not saying much," I comment.

We head inside and politely knock on the locked door, and the weird lizard thing lets us inside again. Baladas is waiting for us in his study at the top of the stairs, looking over to us expectantly.

"Good day," I say. "We're interested in speaking with you about your Dwemer research. Oh, and we brought you a book we thought you might find interesting."

Baladas takes the _Chronicles of Nchuleft_ and looks at it with some appreciation. "Ah, yes, I have been looking for a copy of this. So you're a scholar of history, are you?"

"Archmagister Gothren was interested in hearing about your research, but yes," I say.

"Lexen here is very modest, but he's an expert in languages," Luna says. "I've yet to see a language he doesn't speak." She gestures over to Gellert. "And Gellert here is quite the adventurous scholar, not afraid to risk himself or get his hands dirty when necessary."

"What's this, a Nord Telvanni?" Baladas says, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, don't knock it," Gellert says. "This Nord is a mage. There's a reason why I'm here in Morrowind and not slumming with my backwards kinsmen over in Skyrim."

"Are there any other books you're looking for?" I ask.

"Yes, actually," Baladas says. "Nchunak's _Fire and Faith_ , and _Antecedents of Dwemer Law_."

"I'll see if we've got them in our library," I say.

"I'll go look," Gellert says. "How do you spell that? Chunk?"

I spell it out for him. "It means 'Friend' in Dwemeris."

"Ah, so you _are_ a linguist," Baladas says.

"Right, I'll see if we've got them, and whether I can safely pry them out of Hermione's hands," Gellert says, then Recalls.

"Hermione?" Baladas asks.

"A friend of ours, and the librarian at our stronghold," I say. "I think she must have made it her life goal to read every book in Tamriel. I'm going to wind up translating some of them for her."

"I'm interested in testing your expertise, myself," Baladas says. "And I would appreciate copies of any book you translate relating to the Dwemer."

I nod. "I'll be happy to."

I still have no idea who the Dwemer were or why they apparently disappeared, but I'm certainly not going to come out and make my ignorance obvious. Well enough that I can apparently understand their language.

Gellert comes back in not a minute later carrying two books, which he hands over to Baladas. "That was the only copy we had on hand of _Fire and Faith_ , but I'm sure Sirius can acquire another one later."

"Yes, I had another copy at one point, but I'm not sure what happened to it," Baladas says. "These are all the books I was looking for, yes. You have my gratitude, as well as some trinkets I no longer have any use for." He offers us some enchanted items.

"Ooh, dibs on the belt!" Gellert says. "I love belts!"

I snicker. "By all means." I turn back to Baladas. "So, tell us a bit about your research. What have you learned from Dwemer artifacts? Why do _you_ believe they disappeared?"

Disguising my ignorance in the form of questions works, interspersed with occasional leading remarks, nods and "hmms" in the right places. Baladas proceeds to go into a lengthy and fascinating discussion about the Dwemer and their machinery and automatons, making arguments on their beliefs and practices and sharing anecdotes from his youth. Some of it is admittedly a bit beyond me, but I don't need to feign interest in the subject. I _love_ machines, after all, and I'm more than a little curious to know what the Dwemer did with them. I may have to start poking into Dwemer ruins to see for myself.

"It has been a fascinating discussion, but I believe it is getting late," Baladas says. "I shan't keep you any longer. Feel free to return at a later date if you wish to continue our discussion or share your own discoveries."

"I'll do that, thank you," I say.

* * *

The next morning, when we go to the council hall and give the Archmagister's mouth our report from Baladas, Felisa waves us over to get our attention.

"A situation has developed that Mistress Therana needs dealt with," Felisa says. "There's been an incident at an egg mine she owns. The slaves are in rebellion."

My blood goes cold, and I school my expression. Therana keeps slaves? I'm damned well not going to sit this one out. And I have a feeling I know who is behind this.

"Directions," I say flatly.

Felisa gives us directions to Abebaal Egg Mine, on an island near Tel Branora. I spin and turn on my heel and head out for the door without even waiting for the others to acknowledge.

"Are we going to take the boat?" Gellert asks.

"is there a better option?" I ask.

"Why don't we try the propylon network?" Gellert suggests. "We should be able to get a lot closer without having to ride a boat."

I nod. "Good idea. Let's see what we can do."

"Can you cast a water walking spell?" Luna asks.

"Fuck yes," I say. "I learned it right after I almost got eaten by slaughterfish that one time."

"Sensible," Gellert says. "You'll have to show me how it goes."

"I'll try," I say. I haven't tried tutoring someone in magic in this universe before, but Gellert was a master wizard in his own universe and the closest thing we had to an expert on mana weaving outside of Suzy or those of us like Luna who took to it better instinctively. We could probably swing it, I think.

We Recall and head for the war room to pore over the map a bit. There definitely seems to be a quicker and easier way there than taking a boat from Sadrith Mora, especially since we're not going to Tel Branora itself.

"I wish we had the propylon index for the Telasero stronghold," I say. "That would be perfect."

"Marandus might be close enough," Gellert says. "Let's try it. Failing all else, we wind up in the wrong place and have to Recall."

We take the propylon to Marandus and cast Almsivi Intervention from there, and wind up being deposited in Suran. This is a town I haven't been in before, so I take a moment to poke my head into every tavern to see if Remus or Brax are here. As well as, apparently, a strip club with dancing nearly-naked girls. Sadly, no dancing nearly-naked boys. Most of my friends would probably be more likely to be watching dancing boys than girls. The silt strider in Suran can take us to Molag Mar, another new name to me, but a look at the map determines that it's probably as close to the mine in question as Tel Branora, plus I'd much rather ride a silt strider than a boat.

The silt strider deposits us at Molag Mar in a few short hours. Strange town, looks like one of those city-pyramids like the ones that make up Vivec City. Again I take a look around to try to see if I can spot my friends, and while it occurs to me that I might not even recognize them, at least now I have Luna with me. She'd probably recognize their auras in an instant and be able to point them out of a crowd. Before we leave Molag Mar, I take a quick nap just in case.

At the south edge of town, a wooden ramp leads down toward a small pier. As we approach, the Dunmer next to the boat says, "Good day, outlanders. Can I take you somewhere?"

Luna lightly skips out onto the water, her toes leaving ripples that otherwise don't touch her.

"Or you can just do that," the boatmaster says. "That's fine too, I suppose."

"Let's see if I got this spell down," Gellert says, carefully trying to cast it several times. "Think I got it." He steps off the pier and goes splash into the water. "Don't got it," he splutters.

Luna crouches down to offer her hand, but he waves her off.

"I'll get this," Gellert says. After a few more tries, he lifts out of the water to stand on its surface. "Got it!"

We stroll south down the water between the islands. The sun shimmers off of the rippling water amidst small, rocky islands dotted with mushrooms. It would be a beautiful day if we didn't have to fight off cliff racers every five minutes. Our first reset is due to three cliff racers. The second, two nix-hounds and a cliff racer. The third, what must have been at least half a dozen cliff racers.

"Fuck cliff racers," I grumble as we head out onto the water again.

At least by this point, Gellert is getting pretty good at the water walking spell, having to recast and maintain it the whole time.

"They normally wouldn't be quite this vicious," Luna says. "They're sick. The blight makes them more aggressive. They'll attack anyone that comes nearby in a blind rage when they've got the blight, and since they're already in so much pain, it's harder to put them down. We'd best be careful they don't infect us too."

We do, however, eventually make it to the egg mine in question and head inside. For a moment, I'm afraid that we'll have to defend ourselves against these rebellious slaves until we can calm them down and talk to them, but as it turns out, they don't attack us at all when we come inside. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though. It's not like they even have weapons.

"Therana is insane," mutters one Argonian. "She keeps asking for more and more eggs, even when there simply aren't any eggs. And she doesn't even eat them! She just decorates her tower with them."

I blink. "Gellert, you didn't tell me how weird she was."

"She made me dress in drag," Gellert says. "That wasn't clue enough?"

"If she sent you to deal with our rebellion, you'll need to speak to our leader, Rispy," says the Argonian.

A broad grin spreads across my face. "I'll do that."

Down the tunnel, in the center of the mine, stands a Khajiit with ragged brown fur. He's wearing slave bracers and dressed only in a loincloth, but somehow manages to make that look strong and proud nonetheless. He looks up at me and meets my grin with his own.

"Rispy?" I ask.

"Hey," the Khajiit says casually, as if he'd just met me for lunch.

I don't even need to be asked. I lift my hands and call upon my power with great force, and shout, "FREEDOM FOR ALL BEINGS!" A thunderclap echoes through the mine with a shockwave that shatters every slave bracer nearby.

Gellert blinks. "By Akatosh's tail, Lexen, what the fuck was _that_?"

"Magic?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"That was _not_ like normal magic in this—ahem," Gellert catches himself. "You didn't cast a spell. You didn't weave magicka. You just _shouted_."

"I guess so," I say. "What of it?"

"Also, you weren't shouting in Cyrodiilic, so I have no idea what you said, either," Gellert says.

"I said 'freedom for all beings'," I tell him. "Well, maybe not _literally_ that, but that was the intent."

"Either way, I'm going to make sure everyone's been freed," Rispy says. "We'll gather everyone outside in a minute."

These slaves are all happy to listen to Rispy as he herds them up outside the mine. Unlike the other places we'd freed, none of them go running off on their own. Probably because we're on an island in the middle of nowhere.

"We've set up a place where we've been ferrying slaves to safety," I say. "We can teleport you there and then slip you out of Morrowind from there to wherever you want to go."

We ought to have brought more people with us just to make moving them easier. We each wind up having to try to Recall with two of them at once. We manage it, although it takes a good deal of effort and leaves us drained of magicka.

"Ah, more slaves?" Tom says, coming out to meet them. "Don't worry. You're safe here. I'm Mends-the-Soul."

While Tom leads off the slaves to accommodations to be cleaned up, fed and clothed in preparation for transport, I head inside with Rispy to our storeroom.

"I expected that if I made enough noise, you'd find me," Rispy says.

"Did you also expect me to join the Telvanni?" I ask.

"Lexen, you're the sort of person who challenges people to duels to the death because you didn't like their political position."

"Point," I say. "Take your pick of our equipment here. I doubt most of it is worth much. We haven't really had a chance to start collecting a proper arsenal yet."

Rispy reaches up to a weapon rack and pulls off a spiky midnight-black bow with red markings. "You don't have much of value, you say. And yet you have a Daedric longbow. I'm calling dibs on this, though wondering where you even got it."

"Dunno, Sirius probably stole it from somewhere while I wasn't looking," I say.

As Rispy gets his equipment squared away, I fill him in on what we've been doing in the meantime, and then we head down to the war room.

"It's good to have you back, though," I say. "I always feel safer when you're at my back."

Rispy grins. "Afraid I can't do the house-elf teleporting and invisibility thing around here, though, and I was never much interested in normal magic."

"That's okay," I say. "Will you be wanting to come out adventuring with me and my group?"

"You better believe it," Rispy says.

"I just have to wonder what I'm going to tell the Telvanni now," I say. "Also, probably going to kill Therana when I get a chance."

Rispy shrugs. "Tell them she stole your property so you let her slaves go out of spite."

"My property?" I say. "Rispy, do you really want me to pretend you're my slave?"

"Why not?" Rispy says. "It's just words."

"It's words to appease the sort of people I'd rather kill at the expense of the sort of people I want to help," I say. "Someone might get the wrong idea and attack me or try to 'free' you, and then I'd have to be very careful not to hurt them as I explained the situation."

"So, what, you'd rather walk down the streets of Sadrith Mora with a heavily armed Khajiit at your side and tell them you freed all those slaves and armed them?"

I snicker. "Tell me _honestly_ now, how common is slavery in Morrowind?"

"I don't think you actually need an answer," Rispy says. "You've probably already figured it out for yourself by now."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," I say. "This is looking like too big of a problem to fix by just screaming about it or publicly attacking slavers."

"Maybe," Rispy says. "We can make a difference, though. We can change things. Let me tell you, unlike the house-elves, the Khajiit and Argonians who were enslaved are _not_ happy about it. They go along with it because they believe they have no choice. Let's give them a choice."

* * *

I watch the last group of slaves board the boat in the sewer.

"Does Tom really think he's fooling anyone with the gentle-healer act?" Rispy mutters as we walk away. "Mends-the-Soul, helps the slaves… has zombies guard his slave escape boat."

I snicker. "Well, those he helps don't seem to mind."

I return to Sadrith Mora along with Gellert, Luna, and Rispy. I feel like all is right in the world with them at my side. I didn't even realize how empty or alone I was feeling without Rispy's tacit presence somewhere nearby. Even when he was silent and invisible before, I still felt like he was there and that he would jump to my aid with just a word. The only one of them who stayed with me over countless lifetimes. I don't bother trying to ask him what sorts of things he saw or remembers of this world. He won't tell me anyway. But if Azura said I was in this world before, then Rispy probably knows much more than he'll let on.

A short sword at his belt, a longbow on his back, clad in the best light armor we had on hand, Rispy definitely looks more like a mercenary than a slave now. And I pass the slave market in Sadrith Mora and stop to stare for a long moment. How did I miss this before? How did I walk by this without even seeing?

"Are you looking to make a purchase?" says the slavemaster.

"No," I say, biting my tongue to avoid a sharp retort.

This isn't the time or place to try to deal with this. Realistically, there are powerful mages in this town, and we're not strong enough to make our point with violence. But a war can be won without ever casting a spell or raising a blade.

"Slavery is legal in Morrowind, outlander," the slavemaster goes on. "We don't need any outlander sensibilities here."

"I'm a Telvanni, and I said nothing against you," I say. "Are you so insecure in your job that you have to defend yourself against every non-Dunmer that spends more than half a minute looking in your general direction?"

"No, but you're standing next to an armed Khajiit," the slavemaster says.

"This one has no opinions he wishes to state, sera," Rispy says, his voice taking on the characteristic Khajiit accent and speech patterns that were absent when I spoke to him privately.

"See to it that you keep it that way, cat," the slavemaster says.

I'm about to make some retort about it being unnecessary to be rude on top of being a slaver, but Luna puts her hand on my arm, and I calm down and look aside to her.

"He's not worth your time," Luna murmurs.

As we're heading away, Rispy says quietly, "There's no tactical advantage in causing trouble at a slave market in the middle of the city. The problem lies at the root, not just the visible weed."

I stride into the council hall and approach Felisa again, while silently trying to tell myself that it's not _her_ fault that her Mistress is completely batshit. Felisa glances at me then gives a long look at Rispy, raising an eyebrow.

"Felisa," I say. "I went to look into this slave rebellion you mentioned. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that someone I knew was leading it. Because your Mistress had tried to enslave an old friend of mine."

"Ah… well…" Felisa says, almost at a loss for words. "That is unfortunate. What happened with the rest of the slaves?"

"I freed them out of spite," I say. "She's welcome to take it up with me if she has a problem with it. And might I recommend that you go looking for a new job? Because I'm going to murder Therana."

"Well… you're welcome to try, but I must warn you that she's very old and powerful," Felisa says.

"Not today," I say. "Probably not tomorrow, either. Maybe not even this year. But I _will_ kill her. I will not forgive this slight. I will not stand for anyone doing harm to me or mine."

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I spot the other Mouths starting placing bets.


	9. The Propylon Network

Sirius has managed to collect some of the Sermons of Vivec, although not nearly all of them. Still, I take some time to read through the ones we have on hand so far. Allegory and metaphor, nonsensical at a glance, but there has to be more to it than that.

"More sermons?" Gellert says, coming up to my table. He takes a seat and picks up a book. "Let me see here."

"You're welcome to it," I say. "See if you can make more sense of it than me."

Gellert reads aloud, "Barfok, Maid of Planes, who appeared as a winged human with lick-encrusted spear, had the powers of Event Denouement. Battles fought against her would always end in victory for Barfok, because she could shape outcomes by singing. Four Chimeri villages and two more Dwemeri strongholds were destroyed by her decision enforcement. Vivec had to stuff her mouth with his milk finger to keep her from singing Veloth into ruin."

"Hmm," I hmm.

Gellert stares quietly at me for a long moment, before finally declaring, "Lexen, what the fuck did I just read?"

"Well, that one makes sense to me, at least," I say. "I suppose."

"Okay, you know what?" Gellert says, standing up. "I'm going to leave this one to you. Might I recommend reading them while on mind-altering substances? Because I think whoever wrote them was on mind-altering substances while writing them."

"Good idea," I say.

"That wasn't meant as a serious suggestion," Gellert says.

"Well, for the moment, we have other things to take care of anyway," I say.

"Thank fuck," Gellert says. "Because if you ever plan to half-starve yourself and sit in a darkened room meditating on this stuff, I might think you're crazy. I mean, crazier than I already think you are."

"Lexen, it might help if you were to do more research to put them in the proper context," Hermione says.

"I don't know that _any_ amount of context would make some of this make sense," Gellert says.

"No," I insist. "It means something. I just know it."

"Maybe you should ask Luna for help, then," Gellert says. "This sort of shit would be right up her alley, I'm sure."

* * *

We're standing in the war room looking over the map, in particular the locations of the strongholds and the remaining propylon indices.

"We're two short at the moment, and I'd like some backup for the remaining ones," Sirius says. "Since they're located _inside_ the strongholds of Rotheran and Telasero."

"Rotheran's on an island way up north," I say, poking the map. "Tell me you weren't planning to use a boat to get there."

"Yeah, I figured take a boat to the village of Dagon Fel and then head south from there," Sirius says.

"Can we split into two groups?" I say. "Have one go to Rotheran and the other to Telasero?"

Sirius frowns. "If we get killed at Rotheran, how will you know when to set a reset point?"

"Can't we just walk?" I ask.

"Across the water?" Sirius says.

"We've been having a lot of fun with water walking," Gellert says brightly. "And, apparently, shouting at doors to open them."

"Shouting at doors?" Hermione repeats.

"Yeah, he did that here in Hlormaren, too," Sirius says. "I didn't really question it at the time. He likes to yell at things."

"But what he actually _said_ wasn't even in any language I know," Gellert says.

"I said ' _freedom for all beings_ '," I say. The air ripples just at saying it.

"Yes, the same thing you said in Hlormaren," Tom says. "'Stin-Pah-Gein'."

"Oh!" Hermione says. "I think I know what this is. I read about it in a book, where Nords used something called the 'Thu'um' to break open doors and the like."

"But, he was doing the same thing in other universes, too," Tom says.

"Yeah, but I'd assumed it was just a high-powered version of the Unlocking Charm," Sirius says. "Normal Unlocking Charms wouldn't have been able to open the doors in Azkaban, after all."

"Nor slave bracers," Tom adds.

"I read that it was words in the ancient draconic language," Hermione says.

"Oh, that makes sense," I say. "Okay. So I apparently can shout doors open. Now, are you going to make me ride a boat, or insist that I figure out how to turn into a dragon and fly to Rotheran?"

"Fine, we can split up, if you insist," Tom says. "Sirius and I should be able to handle Rotheran ourselves."

"With or without a small army of undead?" I ask.

"I'm not planning on taking undead on the boat," Tom says. "It would attract too much attention, regardless."

"You should at least take Kirlin with you as well, just in case," I say.

"Fine, fine," Tom says.

"Gellert, Luna, Rispy, you with me?" I ask.

The three of them answer affirmatively.

"Hermione, staying or going?" I ask.

"I have a lot of reading to do," Hermione says. "And someone who isn't a zombie needs to hold the fort."

"Just remember, if we get a serious attack, you can call them out of the sewers to help if necessary," Tom says.

"That might do more harm than good, but I'll keep that in mind just in case," Hermione says.

"Would you rather be thought a necromancer, or have your library ransacked?" Tom asks.

"Point," Hermione says.

* * *

"You know it'll be very annoying for them to reset every time we inevitably fail and get ourselves killed," Gellert comments.

"Yeah, but they're going by boat," I say. "We'll arrive way before them, and I can take a quick nap once we've cleared Telasero so we don't have to do it again if _they_ die. It'll just mean a longer boat ride for them."

"Guess so," Gellert says. "But remember we do still have to cross the hills east of Suran to get there, or go along the shore. That might be a bit rough. As in, full of cliff racers."

"It's alright," Luna says. "I know how to make the healthy ones leave us alone. It's just the blighted ones we need to look out for."

"What, were _all_ the cliff racers we encountered between Molag Mar and Abebaal Egg Mine blighted?" I wonder.

"Most of them, I think," Luna says.

"And how many blighted cliff racers do you think we'll encounter on the way to Telasero?" I ask.

Luna looks off thoughtfully. "Most of them, probably."

"Great," I groan.

"Would you prefer the boat?" Gellert says.

"No, not really," I say. "Let's go."

We take the same route to Suran as we did before, using the propylon to Marandus and casting Almsivi Intervention from there, with me dragging along Rispy when I cast it. Just outside the gate, Gellert casts the quick nap spell on me then wakes me. While getting to Suran was hardly difficult, I'd rather not have to do that much if I can help it, and we'll probably be wanting to put in several reset points as we make progress.

"You weren't interested in being a primary mage, but didn't you ever want to at least learn a few spells that might be convenient?" I ask Rispy as we head out away from the gate.

"I'm not very good at it," Rispy says. "You guys picked up spells quickly and easily because of all the magical training you already had, even if it was with slightly different systems. As a house-elf, my magic was instinctive. I didn't have to think about waving a wand or weaving mana. I just thought, and it happened. It might take me years to learn to cast even something like Recall, if I could even manage it at all, and I feel like there's better uses of our time than that."

"But what about Force powers?" I ask. "Didn't you say you were a Jedi at one point?"

"I was your apprentice," Rispy says. "Sith, technically, but you were trying to reform them again and had kicked everyone's asses hard enough for it to stick for the moment. I mostly stuck to lightsaber combat. And again, the Force is more instinctive, all will and emotion, and not so much actually casting _spells_."

"I see," I say. "So are you actually telling me a little about one of my previous lives now?"

"Oh, look!" Rispy exclaims, pointing. "Cliff racers!"

We quickly give up on the idea of trying to figure out which cliff racers are blighted and which aren't, and Rispy just tries to shoot down any he can spot before they can attack us. Sometimes it even works. The area east of Suran is desolate, ashen land full of agonized, deadwood trees and steam vents belching out plumes of vapor. Before long, an ash storm whips up, stifling our ability to see more than ten feet away, never mind snipe any cliff racers. One zips in out of nowhere and gives me a nasty bite before we kill it.

"Ugh, I think I'm sick," I mumble.

"Let me try a Cure Disease spell," Luna says, and casts it on me. Then she shakes her head. "It's not a common disease. It's a blight disease. Ash-chancre, I think. I can't cure this."

"Well, on the up side, we'll probably be dead before long anyway," I say.

"Most people wouldn't consider this to be an up side," Gellert says wryly.

"Have I mentioned lately that you're insane?" Rispy comments lightly.

I laugh. "I love you guys."

The storm is so dense that I have to wonder how we're ever going to find the stronghold in this, but I pull out my map. Even though _we_ can't see anything, that doesn't mean the map is having any trouble. Landmarks and rock formations appear on the map around us even though we can't really make them out.

A door appears on the map as we come close to — apparently a tomb. Skeletons charge out of the blowing ash and attack. Unprepared and taken by surprise, having expected cliff racers, they quickly overwhelm us.

* * *

I wake outside of Suran.

"Trying to shoot skeletons is annoying," Rispy says.

"Stabbing them isn't much better," I say.

"I'm going to have to try to keep a Bound Battleaxe in hand at all times," Gellert says. "I don't care how much magicka it takes. Once that ash storm whips up, we won't be able to count on having any warning."

We head back out into the ashen wasteland, and manage to avoid getting bitten by a blighted cliff racer this time. I remember where the tomb was at least, and decide to try to avoid it by climbing a hill to the left of it. As we crest the hill, I can barely make out a boxy shape through the storm.

"I think that's it!" I exclaim.

"Lexen, I'm going to put you out right here," Gellert says. "Nothing is attacking us and it'll be a bitch to find the place again."

"Agreed," I say.

After one quick nap, we approach the building. As we get closer, it becomes clear that it's definitely the same style of construction as Hlormaren. We circle around to find the stairs and climb up, fortunately there being nothing around to attack us in the immediate vicinity. We take refuge in the propylon chamber, which is also fortunately empty.

"Do you think we might have gotten so fortunate as to have found the place entirely abandoned?" I ask, slumping down against a pillar to rest.

"Fuck no," Gellert says.

"Didn't think so," I say. "Alright, it seems to be safe enough in this room, though. Good place to reset to. Let's do that and then go investigate the main building."

Gellert puts me to sleep one more time, and we head inside. The corridor leading down into the stronghold is lined with red candles that cast the entire place in an eerie glow. We push in, too quickly, too recklessly. Creatures with ashen skin and ruined faces charge at us with no sense of self-preservation. They claw and bite, and although we kill a couple of them, they prove too much for us to handle.

* * *

I wake in the propylon chamber of Telasero.

"What the fuck were those things?" I wonder.

"Some sort of zombies?" Gellert says. "That one I got a good, close look at was missing a good chunk of his face."

"They're not undead," Luna says. "But perhaps they might as well be. They're sick, so very, very sick, all full of blight and madness. There's no helping them now. We're going to have to kill them."

I nod. "That's disturbing. So the blight drove them mad?"

"No," Luna says. "Not exactly. It… It seems more deliberate than that. I saw patterns in it."

"You mean someone _used_ the blight to do that to them?" I wonder.

"I think so, yes," Luna says. "There's purpose in it, at least."

"Fuck, that's horrible," I say.

We return to the corridors of Telasero and begin to explore, carefully and slowly, taking no great risks and pulling back to nap in the propylon chamber regularly. The dim, red-lit halls are filled with warped and twisted people, some of them unable to do more than claw at us with deformed hands, others lucid enough to throw darts or magic at us.

One monster shambles at me with one misshapen, oversized arm and leg, and digs its claws into my arm. I stumble to the ground as disease rapidly courses through my veins, weakened to the point of being unable to move. At that point I'm grateful that I don't survive much longer.

* * *

I wake in the propylon chamber of Telasero.

"Fuck," I utter. "What sort of place _is_ this? Where did these monsters come from?"

"That's an excellent question," Gellert says. "And one I have no answer to give you."

"I think they're corprus beasts," Luna says. "I saw the occasional one who wandered out into the Grazelands from Red Mountain. They were very, very dangerous and I stayed well away when I discovered one was nearby."

We keep at it. The monsters are tough but not impossible to kill, and so long as we can make it back to the propylon chamber to rest, we're still making progress. I have no idea how many of these things are in there, but there has to be a finite number, right? I really hope something in there isn't spawning the damned things, like those spawners in that one world I visited once.

But that isn't the case. We eventually come to an end of them, and reach the basement of the stronghold. Two troughs lay in the main room of the basement. One of them is full of diseased chunks of meat that I don't even want to look at, never mind touch. The other is full of potions, scrolls, books, expensive jewelry and clothing, and indeed, the propylon index that we've been looking for. Gellert doesn't waste any time in scooping up the goods. The minute we're sure nothing is going to immediately attack us, Gellert puts me to sleep briefly again.

At the far end of the room, a smaller room displays what looks like some sort of shrine surrounded by candles, with an offering bowl in front. It's not of any sort I'm familiar with, almost demonic in shape.

"Is that a shrine?" I wonder. "It doesn't look like one of the Temple's ones."

"Nor any of the Nine Divines," Gellert adds. "I don't think it's Daedric, either."

"Phoenix, were you a Daedra worshipper before you Awakened?" Luna asks.

"What makes you say that?" Gellert says. "Can you see something?"

"I _know_ you," Luna says.

Gellert snickers. "Yeah, you got me there."

Luna pauses thoughtfully. "I was always partial to Sheogorath, myself."

"You seem awfully sane for a follower of the Daedric Prince of Madness," Gellert observes.

"Oh, yes," Luna says. "We _are_ the sane ones here, after all. The storms are the time of Sheogorath."

On the way out, Gellert spots a set of large bells over to one side, and raps on one with a knuckle. It makes a low, discordant tone. There's an enormous bell-hammer sitting nearby, and Gellert picks it up.

"Don't you dare," I say.

"Aww, but I wanted to play the evil bells," Gellert says.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "Oh, of course, let's play the evil bells. What's the worst thing that could possibly happen?"

"Fiiiine," Gellert says. "But I'm keeping the snazzy hammer."

Once we've made sure to clear anything of value from the stronghold, we return Hlormaren and, again, take a nap. That should be sufficient for the Rotheran group.

"I really hope the others don't run into anything as horrible as this," I say. "Fuck. I feel like I need to scrub my skin off just to be clean again just from having been inside that place. I don't think I'm going to be able to eat for a week."

Luna puts her hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. We're safe now."

"Are we?" I wonder. "Are we really?"

"Well, I don't think anything's going to be immediately attacking Hlormaren, at least," Gellert says. "We've thoroughly and repeatedly killed everything even slightly hostile in the general vicinity. And a fair number of mudcrabs who just looked tasty."

* * *

Judging by the smaller number of resets that occur while the second party is at Rotheran, I think they're probably having an easier time of it than we did. I'm not sure how they could possibly have had it worse. They arrive back at Hlormaren before too long.

"Welcome back," I say without too much enthusiasm. "How'd it go?"

"We broke up a slave gladiator arena," Tom says. "There were way too many slaves to teleport back with us, but fortunately we could just bring them through the propylon network. Kirlin's getting them cleaned and fed. Mind you, we didn't actually have to go into the arena area to get the index, but we figured you'd murder us if we didn't free the slaves."

"Tom, if we wind up having to redo this, I'll trade with you," I say.

"What, you do Rotheran and me Telasero?" Tom says.

"Yes," I say.

"Even if it meant you had to ride a boat?" Sirius adds.

"Fuck yes," I say.

Tom raises an eyebrow. "What was _in_ Telasero that was so bad?"

"Blighted, mutant monsters that were once people," I say. "Fuck."

Tom stares at me for a long moment. "Lexen, you're shaking."

"It was like a scene out of a nightmare," I say.

"Lexen," Tom says firmly. "Do I need to Obliviate you?"

"What?" I say. "No! Of course not!" I pause. "Can you even _do_ that in this universe?"

"I'm sure I could find a way to if necessary," Tom says.

"Well," Sirius says. "Regardless, we got all the propylon indices, and Folms is working on constructing master indices for us all. So that should definitely make getting around here easier."

"And I'm going to pay a visit to the Telvanni soon," Tom says. "What you've said of them sounds intriguing."

"Yeah," I say. "Knock yourself out. I'm going to go get drunk."

I head over to the common area. Gellert and Rispy seem none the worse for wear. Gellert is loudly discussing what we found in Telasero with Hermione. Luna, however, is sitting off to the side quietly, staring into a plate of kwama eggs. I go over to her table and put an arm on her shoulder.

"Luna, you okay?" I ask.

Luna glances up at me and gives me a forced smile. "I'll be fine."

"I'm going to go hit up my favorite pub," I say. "Want to come with me? I feel very much like not being sober at the moment."

"Alright," Luna says.

We teleport to Balmora and I show her to the South Wall Cornerclub.

"What can I get for you?" asks the barkeep.

"Get me something that can make you forget you caught your mother in bed naked with an orc," I ask.

The barkeep raises an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"No, but I don't want to think about what I actually saw," I say.

"You need sujamma, then," the barkeep says, passing one over to me. "And what can I get for the lady here?"

"Do you have gigglewater?" Luna asks.

"Never heard of it," the barkeep says. "Is that some elf drink? We've got a few imported drinks, but just Imperial ones."

"Butterbeer?" Luna asks. "Firewhiskey?"

I suddenly realize just why Luna always seemed crazy.

"I’m afraid not," the barkeep says. "How about some flin? That’s a kind of whiskey."

"Alright," Luna says.

The flin is pretty expensive, but I won't complain of whatever Luna feels like drinking today. Besides, we're not all that poor any longer, thanks in part to Sirius' crime spree.

"So, what’s the word on the street?" I ask the barkeep.

"I hear the commander at the fort was asking about you," the barkeep says.

"Should I be avoiding the guards?" I wonder.

The barkeep snickers. "I don’t think it’s to arrest you. You haven’t been _caught_ committing any crimes, so far as I know. And I would have heard about it if you had and been able to clear your name for a little fee."

"Hopefully it’s just that he’s got a job for me," I say. "Even more hopefully, maybe it’s even something I might actually want to do. I wonder if he'll mind if we're drunk when we show up. Eh, whatever, he can deal, because I'm not going to be sober for a while."

Once we've finished our drinks, Luna and I head over to the Imperial fort just outside of Balmora, and locate Larrius Varro, the Imperial officer in question.

"Ah, Lexen Skywalker, is it?" Larrius asks. "You're the one who just arrived from Cyrodiil, yes?"

"Not too long ago, yes," I say. "Was I really that hard to find?"

"I heard you'd been coming in and out of town and going all over the place, so far as I could tell, but rarely staying in town long," Larrius says.

I shrug. "I've had things to do, but those aren't really important right now. What did you need?"

Larrius proceeds to tell me a 'little story' that turns out to be a long, rambling mess about a magistrate who has been taking bribes from a local criminal organization that is a rival to the Thieves Guild as if it were some sort of bloody bedtime story. While being very indirect, probably to cover his own ass, he heavily implies that he'd like these 'bad people' killed in an adorable little bloodbath. He also implies that the Emperor had sent me a gift, but he 'lost' it, and might 'find' it again later. Right.

On the way back to town, I mumble to Luna, "And this is why I don't like being involved in organizations that require you to mince your words and constantly be discreet."

"This is why you joined the Telvanni," Luna says with a grin.

"Did you learn those sleep and wake spells?" I ask.

Luna nods. "Do you think the 'bad people' will give us trouble?"

"I'm paranoid," I say. "And I have no real reason _not_ to get into this habit and keep doing this. Actually, I wonder if we can develop a more efficient sort of spell that would have the same effect."

"Probably," Luna says.

We check in with the Thieves Guild to locate the ones Larrius wants dead. Turns out they're the assholes in the Council Club who glared me into a wall the one and only time I went in there. We head into the Council Club, full of unfriendly Dunmer who would clearly very much like us to leave now. Despite their clear hostility and disdain, none of them are immediately inclined to actually attack us or attempt to throw us out.

"Watch the door," I whisper to Luna, then approach the bartender.

"Ugh, I can smell the sujamma on your breath," the Dunmer mutters. "Did you wander into the wrong club? Because you clearly don't belong here."

"No, I think this is right where I meant to be," I say.

Laughing madly, I throw the first punch at a nearby patron, starting a bar fight. The other patrons, assuming that it's just a bar fight, swing back with their fists and don't bother drawing any weapons. The bartender warns us not to break anything but otherwise stays out of it. In my mind, though, I've classified them as enemies, and don't intend to allow a single one of them to leave the room. As drunk as I am, I hardly even notice how weak and clumsy I started off in this universe. I feel like I could take on the world.

They don't realize I'm out for blood until I have them on the ropes and I conjure my Bound Sword. Fools. Just because I came in here apparently unarmed and drunk doesn't mean I'm not always armed so long as I can cast spells, and I can still cast spells while drunk. Because I've practiced that damned spell so much while running all over the place that I could practically cast it while asleep. Only once I start cutting people's throats does the bartender panic. I don't know if he's one of my marks as well, but I kill him anyway. I kill everyone in the building, and only once they're all dead do I slump to the floor, panting as my weapon wisps back into Oblivion and the surge of strength from my drink fades.

Luna comes back down the stairs and starts healing me. I didn't even notice I'd been injured, in the midst of all that.

"We're safe here for now," Luna says. "I don't think anyone else is coming. We have time to loot the place and go."

I stand slowly and look at the carnage around me. "It doesn't bother you that I've just murdered half a dozen people?"

Luna cocks her head. "No. The commander said they were bad people, did he not? But even if they weren't, still no. Stormseeker, you have to be true to yourself. Your pain comes of lying to yourself about who you are."

I go to start looting the place, snatching up anything of value, plus all their booze. "I suppose I should know better. You always seemed like the most innocent of us, but look at you. You woke up as House Telvanni? But then, you never did mind me killing people. You'd casually ask me who I'd murdered today, in public. You always kept saying embarrassing and incriminating things."

"I'm not sure I was ever really 'innocent', yes," Luna says with a giggle.

"Can you help me carry this booze?" I ask.

"Of course," Luna says. "I'm glad to see you feeling better."

"Yeah," I say. "There's something pure and cathartic in murdering assholes."

Luna nods. "Have faith in yourself."

"What about you?" I ask. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Luna says. "I got to watch you beat people up."

"I'm glad that I can be a source of entertainment," I say.

We cast Divine Intervention to take us back to the Imperial Fort and report in with Larrius that the 'bad people' are all dead. Yes, a happy little bloodbath to end that bedtime story. Whatever, I'm not going to mourn them, and I'm happy to take the enchanted ring he says he 'found'. With that done, we Recall.

"Just be sure to remind me to go do some nice, simple murder whenever I'm feeling down," I say.

"I'll do that," Luna says brightly.


	10. The Sixth House

That night I dream. I haven't had the memory-dreams in a while, but this is just a normal nightmare that fades on waking. I couldn't get Telasero out of my head. I keep seeing their warped faces, hearing their tortured voices, and I wake feeling as though I hadn't slept.

I spend a couple days reading, and we gather in the war room one morning to discuss what we need to do next. Tom had gone and joined House Telvanni. Sirius has visited — and robbed — every town in Vvardenfell, without seeing any sign of Brax or Remus.

"I'm going to go check in with Caius Cosades," I declare.

"I thought you were going to establish your cover more first," Tom says.

"If he thinks it's too soon, he can tell me to bugger off," I say.

"As you say," Tom says. "I'd imagine you want to go alone, too."

"I'm not sure how much he'd appreciate that I've told all my friends about his super-secret spy organization," I comment.

"You could always just tell him, see how he reacts, then reset if you don't like it," Gellert says cheerfully.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, I _could_. But the ramifications of doing so may not be immediate. There are more consequences to actions than are obvious, most of the time. Anyway, I'll be fine. If I somehow die in fucking Balmora, I'll wake up here and we can slaughter whatever killed me, okay?"

"Just make sure to come and get us if he wants us to go kill something," Gellert says.

I teleport to the temple in Balmora and head down to Caius' house. It takes me a moment to remember where he lives. I'd only even been here for one day, and I'd been drunk at the time. I consider stopping by the South Wall Cornerclub for a drink first just in case that jogs my memory, but I do find the place.

"Ah, hello, Caius," I say, coming inside and closing the door behind me. "You don't mind if I call you Caius, do you?"

Caius snorts softly. "It's my name, and there's no need for formality. By all means."

"I figured I'd report in because I've been doing absolutely anything but quietly establishing a cover identity," I say. "And I'm only likely to get louder. To be fair, nobody could pin some of those things on me."

"What have you been doing, Lexen?" Caius wonders.

"Well, I joined the Mages Guild, Thieves Guild, Tribunal Temple, and House Telvanni," I say. "I publicly threatened to murder one of the Telvanni council members, but, being House Telvanni, they pretty much took that in stride."

"Dare I ask why you want to murder a Telvanni council member?" Caius asks.

"She tried to enslave an old friend of mine," I say. "A Khajiit by the name of Rispy. And I've freed quite a lot of slaves. I also effectively shut down mining operations in Caldera, even if only temporarily. I'd recommend that if the Empire wants to keep that mine open, that they hire actual miners and not use slave labor."

Caius scowls. "Slavery is illegal throughout the Empire, but protected by law in Morrowind," Caius says. "It was a concession in the Armistice. By all means, though, be my guest if you want to try to do something about that. The Empire can't officially sanction it, of course, but if a vigilante abolitionist were to do it, I'm sure they wouldn't complain."

I think I'm starting to like the Empire. "I'm glad to hear that, because I wasn't going to stop even if you told me to. I do have principles that I refuse to compromise."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Caius says.

"I've gained a number of allies and reunited with some old friends," I go on. "We took over one of the old Dunmer strongholds and reclaimed the propylon network."

"You've been busy," Caius says. "You haven't even been in Morrowind for a month. So, one way or another, you seem to have gotten yourself well-established. Are you ready for orders?"

I nod. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go talk to a man by the name of Hasphat Antabolis," Caius says. "You can find him in the Balmora Fighters Guild. Tell him I sent you. Get him to tell you anything he knows about the secret cults of the Nerevarine and the Sixth House. He'll probably want you to do something before he's willing to talk, but do it, whatever it is. He's quite the student of history as well. You should take the opportunity to chat with him about it. You ought to know about the history of this land if you're going to be involved with it."

"I just spent the last two days reading about history," I say. "We've been putting together quite the library in my stronghold, and one of my friends has been reading everything she can get her hands on. However, more information and different perspectives is always welcome."

"I've got a few books in here that you're welcome to add to your library if you don't already have copies," Caius says.

"What are these cults you mentioned?" I ask. "Is the Nerevarine connected in some way to the historical general, Nerevar, that I've read about?"

Caius nods. "The Nerevarine is supposed to be the reincarnation of Nerevar. It's a thing some Dunmer believe in, that an orphan born on a certain day to uncertain parents will unite the Dunmer and return Morrowind to a new golden age just the way it used to be."

I groan. "Prophecies? I hate prophecies."

"You and I might dismiss it as superstition, but the important thing is that _they_ believe in it," Caius says.

"And what's the Sixth House?" I ask.

"One of my informants tells me that they're connected to some strange events that have happened recently," Caius says. "Aside from that, I don't know anything else about them. I'm hoping you can find out."

"That's very specific," I say. "But I'll see what I can do. Do you mind terribly if I get some of my companions to help with the research?"

"Do you trust them?" Caius asks.

"I'd trust every one of them with my life and soul," I say.

Caius nods. "More eyes are welcome, then, if you're sure you can trust them. I'll trust your judgment, there. Tell me about these companions of yours."

"Well, I already mentioned Rispy," I say. "He's the finest warrior I've ever known, skilled with a bow and a blade. There's Hermione, the Redguard woman who keeps the library, a brilliant mage. Mends-the-Soul is an Argonian healer and conjurer, who has been helping slaves get out of Morrowind. Luna is a Bosmer mage, who studies creatures and keeps me from doing anything too stupid. Sirius Nigellus is an Imperial thief, who has been responsible for much of my book collection and lack of poverty. Gellert is a Nord mage, of all things, completely incorrigible and flamboyant, also the love of my life. Kirlin Surana is a priest of the Tribunal Temple and a native Dunmer."

"That's quite the assortment," Caius says. "And you say you've known these people since before you arrived in Morrowind?"

I nod. "I've known them for years. They'll be at my back no matter what I do."

"It's good to have people you can trust," Caius says. "Although I wonder how you've known this native priest for years."

I chuckle. "Yes, it's a long story."

"I would imagine," Caius says.

"I do hope you're not going to try to arrest Sirius, though," I say with a smirk. "Although if you did, you might as well try to arrest me for murdering everyone in the Council Club the other day."

"It's not my job to enforce the law in Morrowind," Caius says. "It can be very useful to have someone with that sort of skill set on hand."

"The thievery or the murder?" I ask.

"Well, both, really," Caius says. "I won't pretend that you're not likely to see combat. Even just the wildlife in Morrowind can be deadly."

"Yes, so I've found out," I say. "I've discovered that I really hate cliff racers."

"You wouldn't be the only one," Caius says. "Every one of my informants who has traveled much in Morrowind has complained about them."

"I've already fought a number of bandits in addition to the wildlife," I say. "And… there's one thing I feel that I really should inform you of. When my friends and I were reclaiming the propylon network, we went into the old Dunmer stronghold of Telasero." I shudder involuntarily. "It was like a nightmare inside. It was full of mutated and deranged monsters, and Luna said they weren't zombies exactly, and she referred to some of them as 'corprus beasts'. I'm not sure what sort of beast a corprus is, but she's the expert on creatures."

Caius scowls. "Corprus isn't a creature. It's a disease, like a nastier version of the blight diseases. I don't know much about it, but it's apparently quite a problem around the Ashlands. You're lucky you didn't contract it."

"No kidding," I say. "Here's the kicker that makes me think of these cults you mentioned. There was some sort of shrine in the back of the stronghold." I pull out a piece of paper on which I'd sketched an image of it.

Caius takes it and looks it over. "I've never seen a shrine like this before, but it's possible, even likely, that this is connected to the Sixth House cult. Well done. You've already gotten me more information than I had before. None of your adventuring party wound up infected or seriously injured?"

"We made it out okay," I say. "It wasn't easy, though, and we had to be extremely careful. If we'd known what we were getting into, we might have come in more prepared and brought in more backup, but we managed it. We'll try to keep them or any other unsavory elements from taking root in those strongholds again, but our main base is Hlormaren. Since we can get to the other strongholds instantly, though, we can check up on them regularly. I'm not letting such a valuable resource fall into enemy hands. It's a wonder someone hasn't taken them over by now but bandits and cultists."

"I doubt anyone else was able to reactivate this 'propylon network' you mentioned, or even knew it existed," Caius says. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"Alright, I can't think of anything else to report," I say. "If that'll be all, I'll go talk to Hasphat now."

Caius nods. "You do that."

* * *

I head over to the Fighters Guild and, after asking around for him, I'm pointed to the man named Hasphat Antabolis.

"Good day, young man," Hasphat says. "If you're looking to join the Fighters Guild, you'll have to speak to Eydis Fire-Eye upstairs."

I shake my head. "You're Hasphat Antabolis?" At his nod, I go on, "Caius Cosades sent me. I'm looking for information."

"Well, if it's information you want, I'm going to ask a favor of you first," Hasphat says.

"Of course," I say.

"There's a Dwemer ruin nearby by the name of Arkngthand," Hasphat says. "I believe there's an object somewhere in there that I'm looking for, a Dwemer puzzle box. It's a little cube with designs on the sides, maybe the size of a fist. If you can find one of those for me, I'll tell you whatever I can." He gives me directions.

"Oh, excellent," I say. "I've been wanting to take a look around inside a Dwemer ruin, but I've been busy with other things and haven't really had the opportunity."

"You're a scholar, then?" Hasphat asks.

I nod. "I've been studying the Dwemer lately, in particular their disappearance."

"Ah, the disappearance of the dwarves is one of the oldest mysteries of Morrowind," Hasphat says. "There are many contradictory hypotheses for how this came about, from the reasonable to the fanciful. They left ruins and artifacts scattered all over Morrowind and Skyrim, but left behind no bodies. You won't find any ancient skeletons in the dwarven ruins. They all simply disappeared one day, leaving everything they'd built intact."

"I'm also a linguist, and probably the closest thing you'll find to an expert on their language," I go on. "The name 'Arkngthand' means something like 'Hall of History' or 'City of the People'. Sorry, sometimes it's hard to translate connotations. 'Thand' implies a different sort of city than 'zel', for instance."

"We'll need to compare notes sometime, then," Hasphat says. "But it's probably not history that you need to be concerned about right now, but current events."

"Has something been going on that I need to know about?" I ask.

"Oh, not much," Hasphat says. "Secret cults, murders, assassinations, rebellious priests. The worst of it is the blight. The locals say that it comes from Red Mountain, and it's been getting worse."

"Yeah, it seems half the animals I've encountered lately are blighted," I say. "Like cliff racers and nix-hounds aren't obnoxious enough when they're healthy…"

"Best be careful, and keep a strong warrior at your back," Hasphat says.

"I'd like to think I'm a pretty fine warrior, myself," I say. "But my body is terribly out of shape. Fortunately, though, I have friends. I'll go get your puzzle box now. If there isn't one in Arkngthand, is there anywhere else I might look?"

"You'll have to try another Dwemer ruin, then," Hasphat says. "Come back to me if you don't find one in there and we'll figure out where else you can look."

"I'll do that," I say.

* * *

I return to Hlormaren to prepare for the trip. After Telasero, I'm paranoid and make certain to pack some potions, really hoping that at least one of my friends is either brewing or collecting them while I'm not looking. I step into the library.

"Alright, I spoke to Caius," I say. "Turns out he's gathering information about the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House cult. So, heads up and keep an ear to the ground, especially since he thinks the Sixth House is connected to that shit we found in Telasero."

"I'll do some research in the library," Hermione says.

"I'll do some research in the tavern," Sirius says.

"I would imagine that if anyone in the South Wall Cornerclub knew anything, Caius would have mentioned it," I say. "Try a different tavern somewhere. And let's try to be discreet here. Just these words might attract undue attention. It would be safer to ask about the blight."

"A pervasive blight that corrupts and mutates people?" Tom muses. "I've seen something like this before. I'll investigate."

"Investigate carefully," I say. "And if you think you might be infected with something that isn't easily cured, reset."

"Argonians are very resistant to most poisons and diseases," Tom says. "But I won't assume that this blight is a normal disease. And six is a very unlucky number."

"I'm going to go visit a Dwemer ruin," I say. "Who's with me?"

"Do you need to ask?" Gellert says as Luna and Rispy raise their hands.

I grin. "Not really, no, I suppose not."

"While you're there, keep an eye out for a Dwemer tube," Kirlin says. "Edwinna of the Ald'ruhn Mages Guild is looking for one."

"I'll do that," I say.

We teleport to Balmora and head out along the directions Hasphat had given me. The roads turn around this way and that, and for a while I think we're going in completely the wrong direction, but we keep going anyway.

"Caius have anything interesting to say?" Gellert asks.

"Mostly he just needs information," I say. "We had a nice chat, though."

The road leads us into the ashen wastes, and my eyes scan the pointed crags above in hopes of spotting any cliff racers before they spot me. Fortunately, the only one we notice on the way there decides to leave us alone and flies off. We come up to the edge of a long, large gorge cut into the land coated in volcanic rock and ash, like a dry river bed that had once flowed lava down from Red Mountain. On the other side of the gorge stand the ruins I had only had a chance to see in silhouette on the horizon before. Distinctive towers loom in the sky, with narrow stems and round, broad tops tipped with needles.

A narrow bridge crosses the gorge, and naturally a small group of bandits has set up some makeshift defenses across it. At first I think they're going to demand that we pay a 'toll', but no, they just attack us. Once we've dealt with the fools, we cross the bridge and take a closer look at the ruins.

Pipes with valves run between the ashen stones. Giant gears have been overgrown by spiky black thorn-vines. And just when I think we'd gotten away without having to kill any cliff racers, we wind up having to fight off three of them _and_ a kagouti. Fuck's sake.

I twist a valve, and a round door rotates open with a metallic creak. "Let's get inside before anything _else_ shows up."

"What if there's hostiles inside, too?" Gellert wonders.

"Then we either kill it or we walk all the way out here again, either way, I'd rather take a nap inside. We're less likely to get ambushed in there by random cliff racers flying in out of nowhere."

We get inside, and the door closes behind us with a _bang_. If anything was inside, they definitely should have heard that. Regardless, since we're not immediately being attacked, I take a nap before we go exploring.

Part of the underground ruin is a natural cave, and part is built of metal. Platforms of corrugated metal stretch below our feet, clanging as we walk. Pipes run along the walls and ceiling, some of them spewing out steam. Round metal hatches offer passage into different parts of the complex. Luminescent orange tubes cast a moderate light over the area, the coils within them still functional after so many years.

Those bandits outside turn out to be probably just watchers for the group inside, who promptly attack us on sight. For all their taunts, though, they're not very impressive.

"You make this too easy!" calls out a bandit woman right as Luna incinerates her with a spell.

"Is that the best you've got?" a Nord man tells me right before I impale him with my Bound Sword.

"You will suffer— _erk_ —" A Dunmer bandit falls over with Rispy's arrow in her throat.

"You know," I comment once this group of bandits is down. "They seemed a bit full of themselves. What were they even doing in here?"

"Looting, I guess," Gellerts says. "But I haven't even seen much worth looting in here."

"Well, if they were looting, then they must have gotten everything good out already," I say with a shrug.

"And not spent it on better equipment?" Gellert says. "Most of these milk-drinkers were wearing rags and wielding dull kitchen knives."

"Maybe they weren't actually bandits then, and just suicidal bums," I say.

"We're very close to Balmora," Luna says. "And this ruin is not well-hidden. It was probably looted a long time ago."

"I'd love to spend some more time in one of these ruins," I say. "Study it, examine the machinery."

"Nothing is stopping you from doing so if you wish," Luna says.

I chuckle. "Yeah. I know. It's just not a priority right now. And maybe I'll find one more intact than this."

We finally find the puzzle box Hasphat wanted. More accurately, Gellert finds it, if only because he's grabbing anything that looks like it might be of value. With that in hand, we Recall and I return to Balmora to deliver it. 

* * *

It's raining in Balmora when I arrive. Why couldn't Hasphat have just come out here and gotten this Dwemer puzzle box himself? He's in the Fighters Guild, after all. Oh well, not my problem. I go in and hand it over to him.

"Ah, there's the lovely little toy I was looking for," Hasphat says.

"Now will you tell me what I need to know?" I ask.

"Ah, yes, of course," Hasphat says. "As for the Nerevarine cult, I don't know much about it, but I know who you can ask: Sharn gra-Muzgob. She's with the Mages Guild."

"The orc?" I say. "Yeah, I've seen her in there before. I do hope you have something on the Sixth House, though."

"The Sixth House is House Dagoth," Hasphat explains. "You might have noticed that there are currently five Great Houses. Dagoth committed treason against the others and was destroyed for its betrayal. But the great general, Nerevar, was mortally wounded in the battle and died shortly thereafter." He pulls out a sheaf of papers. "Here's my notes on the subject for Caius, as well as a list of suggested reading materials.

"This betrayal was so terrible that now people refuse to even speak the name of the house any longer?" I wonder.

"For the most part, yes," Hasphat says. "A good deal of superstition has arisen about House Dagoth. Their leader, Dagoth Ur, is even called 'the Devil' by some. The Temple blames them for all the evil in Morrowind, although I'm sure a good deal of that is well-justified."

"There's always at least two sides to any story, though," I say. "And whether they did 'evil' or not, it would be remiss to ignore their perspective."

Hasphat nods. "Indeed. For their part, the cult seems to believe that the Tribunal are false gods and that _they_ are the ones responsible for all the evil in Morrowind."

"Of course," I say with a snicker. "That's just how these things go. Everyone always blames everyone else… Chances are, neither one is the whole story."

"History is written by the victors, they say," Hasphat says.

"And you know, I don't know about you, but I've never seen a single, indisputable source of 'evil' anywhere in the universe," I say. I pull out the list of recommended books and look over it. "I think I've got all these books in my library."

"Yes, they're all fairly common, cheap books," Hasphat says.

"Do you know of any more expensive, rarer books that might have the sort of information I'm looking for?" I ask.

"Well, yes, of course," Hasphat says. "Many of them are mostly religious materials, although those range from allegorical stories to incomprehensible allegorical stories."

I groan. "Yes, I've read over some of the Sermons of Vivec. I think I still have a headache from those."

"A common reaction," Hasphat says. "Unless you're a staunch Temple adherent, who will insist that it's all blessed and holy while still not understanding it."

"What sort of rooting do these allegorical stories have in fact?" I ask.

"I'm sure they have some basis in actual historical events," Hasphat says. "Some can be pieced together with events verifiable from other sources, so there's that much in their favor. But they all have their own bias as well, and some of the depictions of events seem more fanciful than is likely. I'm a historian, not a priest. Priests preach faith, while historians strive for _understanding_. While religious sources may offer some useful information at times, these are mutually exclusive goals and mindsets."

I chat with Hasphat for a little longer, and then bid him farewell. He's given me a lot to think about, certainly. I'd best get this package to Caius and debrief with him, and then see about speaking to that orc Hasphat mentioned.

I head back out onto the streets of Balmora. The skies are dim and heavy with clouds, and a hard, pounding rain runs rivulets into the streets. Caius' house is across the river. A figure is standing on the bridge. I don't think anything of it at first and go up to just walk by. The green-robed Dunmer man turns and looks at me with dark, distant eyes.

"I am a Sleeper, one among thousands," the Dunmer tells me. "I bring you a message, Lexen Skywalker. Dagoth Ur calls to you. You cannot deny your lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory."

As the man walks off, I stand there on the bridge in the rain staring off into the darkness, stunned, and finally say, "What."


	11. The Sleepers

I stumble into Caius' house in a daze.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Caius says. "Was what Hasphat wanted you to do that bad?"

I rub my eyes and shake my head. "No, not that. That was fine. That was positively a break. Just go into a mostly-looted Dwemer ruin and kill some squatters and bring back a trinket. No big deal."

"Then what?" Caius asks.

I take a deep breath and try to center myself. "Caius, something deeply strange is going on around here."

"Yes, I've heard some very bizarre rumors," Caius says. "What have you seen?"

I pass over the packet of papers Hasphat had told me to bring to Caius, and sit down. "I met a person on the street who declared himself to be a Sleeper and proclaimed the rise of the Sixth House, and that Dagoth Ur was calling me to me."

Caius raises an eyebrow. "That's alarming. I can see why you'd be disturbed."

"He said there were thousands of 'Sleepers'," I go on. "He didn't attack me in the streets or anything. He just wanted to… deliver a message. To me. By name."

Caius scowls.

"He _knew my name_." I clench my knees. "How did he know my name?"

"To be fair, there are probably plenty of people in town who know your name," Caius says.

"Well… yeah, I guess so," I say. "I was acquainted with most of the folks in the Mages Guild and the South Wall. In fact, I think a visit to the latter is in order for the near future."

"Was this all the information Hasphat gave you?" Caius asks. "Did he know anything about the Nerevarine cult?"

I nod. "Hasphat said that he didn't know much about the Nerevarine cult, but directed me to someone who did, Sharn gra-Muzgob. I'm acquainted with her. We did some spell training together not long ago." Despite her yelling about it, I add silently.

"Yes, I've had some arrangements with her," Caius says. "See what you can get out of her. Before or after getting drunk, whichever. I need to read over Hasphat's notes."

I head over to the Mages Guild and look around for the orc in question. Which isn't really hard, seeing as there's only one orc in the building.

"I can't work with all of these interruptions!" Sharn exclaims. "Why are you disturbing me?"

"Caius sent me," I say quietly. "I just need some information."

"Oh, well, if Caius sent you, that's another matter entirely," Sharn says. "We trade favors regularly."

"I need to know any information you can give me about the Nerevarine cult," I say.

"Yes, I'll just want a little favor out of you first," Sharn says.

"Of course you do," I say with a smirk, then wave a hand. "Alright, out with it."

"I want the skull of Llevule Andrano," Sharn says.

"Who is this, and do I need to kill them first?" I ask.

"No, no, he's quite dead already," Sharn says. "But you'll need to get into the Andrano tomb to get it. That could be trouble, since the local Dunmer have such archaic superstitions about necromancy."

"So I've heard," I say. "Alright, I'll go get you this skull."

"You're not concerned about what I might do with it?" Sharn asks.

I snort softly. "Not particularly, no. What you do with people's skulls is your own business, so long as it's not the skull of anyone I like. And if they're not using it anymore, they're fair game too."

Sharn snickers in amusement. "I can appreciate that attitude."

I leave the Mages Guild and head back out onto the streets. It's still pouring down rain, now lit with the occasional crack of lightning in the stormy sky. As invigorating as that is, I'm still soaked to my bones by the time I get to the South Wall Cornerclub and head inside.

"Ah, you soaked!" Habasi says as I step inside and proceed to drip all over the floor in front of her.

"Only for a moment," I say, casting a quick spell to dry myself off. "It's definitely soaking out there, though."

"Lexen, you and your friends have been good for the Guild, so Habasi gives you warning. There is someone here who came looking for you by name."

"Please tell me that this person didn't have creepy, empty eyes and babble something about Sleepers and the Sixth House," I say.

Habasi raises an eyebrow. "No, nothing like that. But if you do not know him, then Habasi will encourage him to leave. He is an orc, and he says his name is Remus. Strange name for a orc, Habasi thinks it sounds like an Imperial name, but that is what he said."

I can't help but beam at that. "Remus is here!?"

"Habasi takes it that you do know him, then," Habasi says as I head for the stairs.

In the far corner of the bar area, an orc with messy brown hair looks up as I come in and grins broadly. "Lexen!"

"Remus?" I ask, running up to him.

Remus grabs me and gives me a crushing hug. "By Hircine, I've been wondering where you got off to."

"I'll give you the short version over a mug of mazte," I say, taking a seat at the bar and waving to the barkeep, who obliges. "How'd you find me?"

Remus takes a seat next to me. "Another shein for me," he tells the barkeep. "I was in Cyrodiil when I ran across some Khajiit who were apparently escaped slaves on their way back to Elsweyr. They mentioned that they owed their freedom to a green-eyed Breton by the name of Lexen Skywalker."

I chuckle. "Well, you caught me."

"From the sounds of things, you've been busy," Remus says.

"That's an understatement," I say. "You're lucky I stopped in to get a drink."

"You come in here to get a drink almost every day," the barkeep comments.

"I needed a drink today worse than usual!" I say.

"Yes, what is this Habasi hears you say about the Sixth House?" the Khajiit asks, leaning down on the bar next to me.

"Trouble," I say. "Definitely trouble."

"Khajiit can smell trouble a mile away," Habasi says.

"I don't understand it," I say. "And can't really tell you much of anything. Just someone came up to me on the street and told me by name that Dagoth Ur wanted me to serve him. Needless to say, I was kind of freaked out by it and came and got a drink."

"This definitely smells like trouble," Habasi says.

"Has this happened to anyone else that you know of, or are they singling me out for some reason?" I ask.

"Habasi has heard rumor of strange happenings. Sleepless nights and odd dreams. But Habasi knows no more."

"So, Remus, what were you doing in Cyrodiil?" I ask.

Remus shrugs. "I'd recently traveled down there from Skyrim. Business had brought me to the Imperial City. After we last saw one another in High Rock, I went to Skyrim and joined up with the Companions. Fine folk, those. I'd been hired on to protect a merchant caravan that was traveling from Whiterun to the Imperial City, delivering sabre cat pelts. Once the job was done, I decided to stick around there for a little while and see the sights before heading back. Imagine my surprise when I heard a familiar name mentioned, and in Morrowind no less. Since I had no other obligations, I figured I'd come by and catch up."

"The Companions won't mind?" I ask, silently adding a question as to who they even are.

"Nah," Remus says. "It's not a very tight-run organization. I'm sure they'll be glad to raise a mug in my name no matter who I'm beating up where. So, Lexen, from the sounds of things, you've been beating up slavers. Want another hand with that?"

"Oh yeah, I'd love to fight at your side again," I say. "It'll be like old times." I grin widely at him. "You wouldn't believe who else is here."

"Who?"

"Sirius!" I declare.

"That old dog?" Remus says. "What's he doing way out this way?"

"Got into some trouble in the Imperial City, I hear," I say.

"I don't believe it," Remus says. "Sirius, get _caught_?"

"Nah, if he actually got _caught_ , he wouldn't be out here," I say. "I'd imagine he came out here so he _didn't_ get caught."

"Where's he hiding out now?" Remus asks.

"He's back at my place," I say. "Assuming he's not out on a job somewhere."

"You have a house?" Remus asks.

"I have an _awesome_ house," I say. "You'll see."

* * *

"You said you had a house," Remus comments, looking around Hlormaren. "You didn't mention it was a _fortress_."

"I never do anything by half measures, do I?" I say with a grin. I haul him over to the war room, where Sirius and Tom are currently working on the map. "Look who I found," I say.

"Who?" Sirius asks, looking at the orc and raising an eyebrow. "Brax, you got ugly."

Remus snickers. "My name is Rem gro-Lubnar. You'd know me better as Remus, though."

"Wow," Sirius says. "An orc? Tell me you're still a werewolf, at least."

"Do werewolves even exist in this world?" I ask.

"They do, and I am," Remus says.

"Huh," I say. "Infection or birth?"

"An infection, technically, although the Companions give some of its members beast blood in a ritual," Remus says. "I wasn't infected so much as that I chose to be a werewolf."

"So you Awakened in the Imperial City?" I ask.

Remus nods. "I explored the entire city and some of the outlying areas, certain that we'd run into one another soon, but without luck, since apparently we didn't even land in the same province. Where were the others?"

"I told you they might not be in Morrowind," Tom puts in.

"Everyone we've encountered so far was in Vvardenfell, except for Gellert who was up north on Solstheim," I say. "We still haven't found Brax."

"He could be anywhere," Tom says.

"Well," Sirius says, "I've looked in every city, town, and village on Vvardenfell, _including_ the Ashlander camps, and let me tell you they didn't like me hanging around all that much, but weren't above bribes and I was happy to bring bribes. I've checked a few places on the mainland, too, mostly because I accidentally wound up there a couple times by casting an Intervention spell near the coast. At this point, the best thing I could suggest is to just be as noisy as fucking possible and hope rumor of the stupid shit we're doing spreads to whatever backwater corner of Nirn he wound up in."

"That shouldn't be difficult," I comment. "I'm probably going to wind up blowing up something big or killing someone important before too long. It's just the way things go around me."

"So, catch me up here," Remus says. "What have you guys been doing? Aside from, so far as I can tell, getting yourselves killed around half a dozen times a day?"

"Check out my latest addition to the map enchantment," Sirius says. "I've got it displaying creatures now. No names yet, and it won't display anything that's not technically alive, but it's a big step in the right direction."

We fill Remus in on our exploits so far. More accurately, I attempt to drew him into a lengthy story session, but Sirius and Tom keep interrupting me and I finally just leave it up to them to summarize.

"Which brings us up to today's events," I say. "After I finished Hasphat's favor and got him his artifact, I ran into someone on the street who proclaimed himself to be a Sleeper and that Dagoth Ur demanded my allegiance."

"Who the fuck is Dagoth Ur?" Sirius asks.

"That's what I'd like to know," I say. "Apparently he's the leader of the 'Sixth House', House Dagoth. Caius thinks they're connected to the shit we encountered in Telasero."

"That's distressing," Tom says. "I've visited Telasero and have examined samples of the mutant creatures you fought there. I have no answers yet."

"He won't let me go there," Sirius says. "Not that I'm actually going to complain about that."

"I've said before, Argonians are resistant to disease," Tom says. "I'm hoping that will help avoid contracting anything from these samples."

"I could assist as well, then," Remus says. "Werewolves are immune to disease."

"Let's not assume you can't be affected by whatever it was that warped those people," I say. "This was no normal disease."

"I'm being careful," Tom says. "I'm mostly having skeletons handle the materials."

"Why does it not surprise me that you're a necromancer?" Remus says, chuckling.

"Right, speaking of people who totally aren't necromancers," I say. "I need to do a favor for Sharn gra-Muzgob at the Mages Guild. She wants me to get the skull of some guy from a tomb."

"Ah, Sharn, I remember her well," Tom says. "I studied necromancy with her for a bit. I wonder if she actually has anyone fooled with her loud declarations that she's not a necromancer?"

"Either way, I'll go nab her a skull and see what in Oblivion she knows about this Nerevarine stuff," I say. "I'll go grab Gellert and Rispy and whoever else wants to come. I assume you guys want to do some catching up?"

"Fuck yes," Sirius says with a broad grin. "I want to know if what they say about orcs is true…"

"Right, you do that," I say, chuckling.

* * *

I dream. Just an itching in the back of my mind, with no substance but images of dead faces and warped bodies amidst flickering red candles. The only solid snatch of an image, even if only for one fleeting moment, is that of a golden mask.

Come morning, Gellert, Rispy, and Luna readily volunteer to head for the tomb with me. They've started to become my regular team, and the others don't seem inclined to dispute that. I'm sure Sirius, Tom, and Remus are going to be forming their own team again as well. Walking around with a small army tends to attract too much attention, so I'd rather reserve it for when we're assaulting a heavily fortified position. I should have brought everyone to Telasero. Even the undead. Even the fucking undead, if I could have gotten away with it. I'll be more cautious next time. Next time I see a situation like that, if I can afford to, I will back off and bring in reinforcements.

"So, did Sharn mention exactly where this tomb was?" Gellert says.

"Nope," I say. "I may have forgotten to ask."

"So we're going to go wandering around south of town for the next several hours?" Gellert asks. "Even though it might not even be south of town at all?"

"To be fair, whatever directions she'd give would probably be useless anyway," I say. "Besides, I could swear I saw one out here."

"How will we even know which one it is?" Gellert asks. "Let's just rob every tomb we run across."

"While I won't entirely object to that, they _do_ have markings on them," I say. "Anyway, I'm sure the map will be able to figure it out even if we miss it."

"I'll keep an eye out for cliff racers and nargles," Luna says brightly.

I glance back at Rispy. "You know, Rispy, just not wanting to talk about what you've seen before doesn't mean you have to be quiet all the time."

Rispy shrugs. "Well, I don't know what to say without giving things away, and nothing is greatly at stake here like there was before. I don't think anyone is likely to destroy the multiverse. I'll let you know if that changes, though."

"No reason you can't comment on what we're doing here and now, or inconsequential things, though," I say. "Like, hey, what's your favorite Morrowind food and drink?"

"I like sujamma," Rispy says. "And does moon sugar count?" He grins.

"I don't think that's _technically_ a native cuisine here," Gellert says with a smirk.

"Wickwheat, then, I suppose," Rispy says, chuckling.

We come past a tomb entrance, and I go up to it and read the engraving on the outside. "Nope, that's Lleran, not Andrano."

"How can you even read that?" Gellert says. "Your 'knows every language' schtick extends to scripts, too, apparently?"

"Presumably, if I was here before, I learned how to read it then," I say.

We pass through a town named Pelagiad, and a Dunmer in dirty clothes comes up to us in the streets. "I am a Sleeper. Dagoth Ur calls to you, Lexen Skywalker. He sleeps still, but when he wakes, we shall rise from our dreams and sweep this land clean again."

This time I'm composed enough to at least find my tongue. "Why is he calling to _me_?" I ask, glancing aside to my friends.

"All shall greet him as flesh or as dust," the Sleeper says.

Gellert raises his hand. "Can Dagoth Ur call to me, too? I'm starting to feel left out."

"Dagoth Ur calls to…"

"Gellert. My name is Gellert."

"… Hrofingr the Bent," the Sleeper finishes.

"Oh, fuck you," Gellert says. He grabs my arm and leads me away, although the Sleeper has already stopped paying attention to us. "Let's go."

Shortly down the road, we fortunately find the tomb in question and head inside. Unsurprisingly, it's full of undead. It seems to be a constant in every universe that tombs are for some reason full of undead.

"Wait," Gellert says. "I thought the Dunmer hated necromancy. You know, why Tom has to hide the zombies?"

"They're hypocrites," I say lightly. "I suppose they can afford to be. This _is_ their land, after all."

The undead don't give us any great trouble, and we claim the skull in question as well as a sermon of Vivec that I didn't have yet. With that, we don't waste anymore time in here and Recall out.

"Alright, I'd best go take this to Sharn myself," I say. "They're already suspicious enough of you, Gellert."

" _I'm_ going to stick with you, Lexen," Rispy says.

I look at him consideringly for a moment, then just nod. "Very well."

I grab hold of Rispy and teleport with him back to Balmora, and return to the Mages Guild.

"Right, here's that thing you wanted, Sharn," I say, discreetly handing over the skull.

"Ah, much appreciated," Sharn says, and glances to Rispy. "Who's this?"

"This one is Rispy," the Khajiit purrs. "This one keeps him safe."

Sharn looks back to me. "I can see why you must have had no trouble with the tomb, considering how well-armed your Khajiit friend is." She pulls out a sheaf of papers. "Here's the information you wanted. You can deliver that to Caius. I'll also answer any questions you might have about the Nerevarine cult."

"Yeah, I understand the Nerevarine is supposed to be the reincarnation of Nerevar, who was a historical general," I say. "But I'm confused as to why this is a cult."

"Well, belief in the Nerevarine is outlawed by both the Temple and the Empire," Sharn says. "They believe that the Nerevarine will destroy the false gods of the Tribunal, which the Temple doesn't like, and that he'll drive all outlanders from Morrowind, which the Empire doesn't like. The belief is primarily found among the Ashlander tribes, who care for neither."

"Makes sense," I say. "So this is a prophecy?"

Sharn nods. "The Empire disregards prophecy as mere superstition, but the Ashlanders put a lot of stock in visions and dreams. The most common Nerevarine prophecy is called 'The Stranger'."

"Does this prophecy explain how they're to identify the Nerevarine and when he's arrived?" I ask.

"Nerevar had a magic ring called 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star', which was said to instantly kill anyone else who tried to put it on," Sharn says. "He swore his promise to honor the Ashlander rights and traditions on this ring." She gestures to the papers in my hands. "The full text of the prophecy is in my notes there."

I sift through it and find the verses in question. I read, "When earth is sundered, and skies choked black, and sleepers serve the seven curses, to the hearth there comes a stranger, journeyed far 'neath moon and star." There's more, something about trials and fate and prophets. I've never put much store in prophecy, but I'm honestly pretty relieved that this is too vague to identify _me_. I'd really rather not get pinned with anymore prophecies if I can help it.

"There are other prophecies that have been lost," Sharn goes on. "You may be able to find them still remembered amongst the Ashlanders, or secreted away by obscure scholars."

I nod. "Alright then, I'd best get this back to Caius."

Rispy and I go out and cross town to Caius' place again. Rispy insists on coming inside with me.

Caius look over at him. "Ah, hello, Lexen. Who's your Khajiit friend?"

"My name is Rispy," he says, not even bothering with the accent. "I'm here to keep Lexen safe. We keep running into Sleepers, and I'm afraid there may be danger in the streets. Lexen is a reckless idiot with no sense of self-preservation and needs someone to look out for him to make sure he doesn't get in over his head."

"Your concern is appreciated," I say dryly.

"You know about his association with me?" Caius asks.

"I know," Rispy says. "You may induct me into your secret organization if you really wish, but you should know that my loyalty is to Lexen before all else, not the Emperor."

"What did you tell him?" Caius asks me.

"Let's assume he knows everything and just go from there," I say, pulling out the notes. "He probably knows more than _I_ do. And if he doesn't want me running around by myself, then so be it. Here's the information from Sharn you requested."

"Ah, good," Caius says, taking it. "I'm going to need to spend some time reading over these and figuring out what we'll need to do next and where you fit into it all. Go take some time to do some freelance adventuring, vigilante abolitionism, faction work, whatever floats your boat."

"I prefer my boat to be floated by water walking spells," I say.

Caius smirks. "Either way, go on and come back to me in a week or two."

"Alright," I say.

* * *

Back at Hlormaren, the whole gang has gathered at the war room to discuss what I've found out.

"So these Ashlanders are waiting on the Nerevarine to show up and save them and make everything good and true again?" Remus says. "Who are the Ashlanders, anyway?"

"Primitive, nomadic tribes," Sirius says. "They live out in the shitty parts of the province that nobody else really wants to go. They don't like outlanders, but they were happy enough to trade me for some supplies."

"Have I mentioned lately that I hate prophecies?" I say. "At any rate, this one is too vague to really say anything but that the Nerevarine isn't from around here."

"We've already encountered the Sleepers," Luna says.

"But who is the Nerevarine, then?" I wonder.

"Probably you," Tom says offhandedly.

"Argh," I mutter. "Why does everything have to be about _me_? Why can't somebody else be the chosen one for a change? Like, hey, Rispy! Rispy, you wanna be the chosen one?"

"No," Rispy says flatly.

"Azura did say you'd been in this world before," Tom says.

"And she demanded nothing of me directly beyond figuring that I'd probably be compelled to save everyone regardless," I say with a sigh.

"You agreed to it regardless," Tom says. "You can't complain about it now."

"She's probably responsible for the prophecies she dumped you into anyway," Gellert says.

"I suppose," I say.

"Also, Nerevar sounds like the sort of name you would use, Darth Revan," Tom says wryly.

"Can we just agree that somebody else can be the chosen one next time around, though?" I ask.

"That might be fun," Gellert says. "Although it'd be funny to fake it just to fuck with them."

"It might be hard to fake," I say with a smirk. "She said Nerevar's ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, was enchanted so that if anyone else tried to wear it, they'd die instantly."

"Which sounds like something you would do," Tom comments.

"Pfft, how hard could it be to make a ring that looks exactly like it, though?" Gellert says.

"That aside, does anyone have any ideas on how we can locate Abraxas?" I ask.

"I could probably get him to show up on a map eventually," Sirius says. "My current project is making it show each of us. That might even be easier than detecting beings around it, given our connection to one another, except at least I had local Detect Creatures spells to base that part off of."

"Keep working on it," I say. "In between apparently robbing Tamriel blind."

Sirius winks at me. "I'm a busy man."


	12. Telvanni

Without any way to speed along my friends' various projects, and with Caius wanting me to bugger off for a while, I decide it's time to return to Sadrith Mora. Doing some stupid chores should be enough to put my mind off of my current problems and strange dreams. We get there by traveling through the propylon network to the closest stronghold to Sadrith Mora and casting Divine Intervention. Sadrith Mora does not have a real temple, as we discovered when we tried Almsivi Intervention and wound up at the wrong village. When we arrive, I go up to one of the Mouths in the council hall.

"I am Galos Mathendis, Mouth of Master Aryon."

"Lexen Skywalker," I say. "I'm looking for chores?"

"Master Aryon needs a coded message delivered to Divayth Fyr," says Galos, handing me a scroll. "He lives in Tel Fyr, on the west edge of the bay. You can't get there by boat from here. You'll need to swim or water walk." He pulls out some potions and hands them to me. "These might help with that."

"I can actually cast the spell, but my friend here will need them," I say, passing them over to Rispy.

"Ah, yes, the… former slave," Galos says.

"This one has no comment," Rispy grates out.

"For what it's worth, Master Aryon does not support slavery," Galos says. "He believes it is holding the House back."

"Well, in that case, I like him already," I comment.

Message in hand, the four of us head out onto the water. This definitely beats riding a boat, and even if there were one coming here, I'd prefer to just walk if possible. Taking a stroll on top of the water is almost relaxing.

"Water walking is weird," Rispy says.

"You know, we could just research a version of the water walking spell that can be cast on others," Gellert says.

"Or just have Tom make potions," Luna says. "The ingredients for it are common around Hlormaren."

"It definitely beats dealing with the slaughterfish, though," I say.

Luna nods. "It's nice to watch them under the surface of the water when they can't actually come up and hurt you. But I can probably get them to calm down and leave us alone if it were really necessary."

"You seem to really have a way with animals," I say.

"I had to learn their behaviors and what would set them off or calm them down while studying the creatures on Vvardenfell," Luna says. "I still haven't found any crumple-horned snorkacks, though. I'm not sure they exist in this universe. Maybe in the next one."

"I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that Divayth Fyr is still alive," Rispy comments.

"Still alive?" I ask.

"He's got to be ancient," Rispy says. "Not sure exactly. Actually, not even sure what year it is."

"426, Third Era," Luna says helpfully.

"Well, fuck," Rispy says. "How long were the first and second eras?"

"That I don't know," Luna says.

"You'll have to ask Hermione for that," Gellert puts in.

"Hey, Rispy," I say. "Can you just answer me one teeny, tiny little question?"

"Depends," Rispy says. "What?"

" _Am_ I the Nerevarine?" I ask.

Rispy rolls his eyes. "Do you _really_ need me to answer that?"

I groan. "No, I suppose not."

After a lovely stroll across the water of the bay, interrupted by only one kagouti, we arrive at a large mushroom tower and head inside.

"This _is_ Tel Fyr, isn't it?" Gellert asks.

"It said so on the sign outside," I say wryly. "You really ought to learn to read."

"Ugh," Gellert mutters. "Tell you what. If we wind up staying in Morrowind for more than a year, I'll learn to read this shit."

"Visitors?" says a Dunmer woman, approaching us. "I am Beyte Fyr. Welcome to Tel Fyr."

"A pleasure to meet you, Beyte," I say. "I'm Lexen Skywalker, and these are my friends, Gellert, Luna, and Rispy."

"What brings you to Tel Fyr?" Beyte asks. "Do you have corprus? Here to plunder the dungeon? Or are you looking for my husband?"

"Your husband?" I say. "You're Divayth's wife?"

"Sort of," Beyte says.

"Let me guess, it's complicated?" I ask.

"It's a little awkward," Beyte says. "He made us, but we're not technically his daughters. And we're not technically married to him, either."

"Ah, I see, that sort of complicated," I say.

"And here you're more interested in asking about Divayth's relationships than why she's casually asking if we're going to try to plunder his dungeon," Gellert comments.

"Yes, he keeps treasures down in the Corprusarium, but mostly we get dumb thieves, not decent ones," Beyte says. "It amuses him to see people attempt to steal them."

"Everyone has to have a hobby," Luna says brightly.

"And no, we don't have corprus," I say. "At least I don't think we do."

"Normally you would know," Beyte says. "Although you may have been exposed and haven't displayed symptoms yet."

"Well… we were definitely exposed a few days ago, though I'm not sure we caught anything," I say. "Is there a way to test for it?"

"You'll have to ask Divayth about that," Beyte says. "He's the expert."

"I'll do that," I say.

"He's probably up in his study," Beyte says. "Oh, but you'll need to be able to fly to get up there."

I stare at her. "Fly?"

"Levitate, at any rate," Beyte says. "I hope you have a spell, potion, or magic item, though there might be some potions laying around here somewhere."

"I can cast it," Luna says brightly.

"Why does Divayth not have any stairs?" I wonder.

"It's pretty common among Telvanni," Luna says. "It keeps out the riffraff, I suppose."

I pause thoughtfully. "Why did I never think of that? Right, next priority, I'm going to learn to levitate."

"I can probably float you up there at least," Luna says.

Gellert says, "I'm going to go plunder the dungeon."

"I'm with Gellert," Rispy says.

"Right, have fun with that," I say, chuckling.

Once Luna and I are out of sight down the hallway, I have Luna give me a quick nap just in case the other two get into trouble in the silly dungeon.

"Here's the central levitation shaft," Luna says, putting her arms around me. "Hold on tight."

"Sweeping me off my feet now?" I say as Luna casts the spell and we lift into the air.

A walkway leads around the top of the shaft, and Luna lightly puts me down on it. In a study off to the side stands a Dunmer man wearing spiky red-and-black armor, looking more than a little imposing. Bookshelves at either side hold an assortment of books and paraphernalia, and a variety of items is scattered across his desk.

"Ah, hello, welcome!" the Dunmer says. "I am Divayth Fyr. I'm delighted to see more guests. I'm afraid I don't get too many out here, who aren't carrying the divine disease at any rate. The last one who visited was that young Imperial lad who fancied himself a thief. Tried to plunder the dungeon but quickly decided to back out. Tsk. Probably wise of him, though."

"That wouldn't happen to be my friend Sirius Nigellus, would it?" I wonder.

"Ah, yes, that was his name," Divayth says. "And who might you be?"

"Lexen Skywalker," I say. "And this is Luna."

"Oh, you're the one who was studying creatures, weren't you," Divayth says to her.

"That's me," Luna says brightly.

"We've brought a message for you from Master Aryon," I say, bringing it out and handing it over to him.

"Is that so?" Divayth says, taking it from me and unrolling it. "Let me see what young Aryon has to say, then. I'll have a reply for you to take back to him in a moment, so don't go far."

I go over to skim over the spines of the books on his shelves, although Luna quickly gets bored and wanders off. I do hope she's still upstairs, but I'm sure the jump down wouldn't be anything that couldn't be readily healed. None of the books catch my immediate attention before he turns back to me with another paper.

"Kindly inform Aryon that I must decline his thoughtful proposal," Divayth says.

"Okay," I say, putting the letter in my pack. "So, what were you saying about the 'divine disease'? Do you mean corprus?"

"Indeed so," Divayth says. "It is a marvel, although not one that my patients can truly appreciate. Did you know that victims become completely unaffected by aging and other diseases? I'm convinced that a god must have had a hand in it, either as a curse or a blessing, or perhaps both!"

"It's definitely more than a little interesting," I say. "Do you have a way of knowing whether someone has been infected if they have not started displaying obvious symptoms yet?"

"There are a few things I can check for, yes," Divayth says. "Are you afraid that you may have been infected?"

I nod. "I'm probably just being paranoid, but I haven't lived this long by not being paranoid."

"Let me take a look at you, then," Divayth says, peering close. "Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue. Open your eye and look into the candle. Hmm. No, I don't see any signs of infection. You are fortunate, perhaps. Where were you exposed, out of curiosity?"

"Telasero," I reply. "My friends and I were reclaiming the old Dunmer strongholds. Although we didn't actually go inside all of them further than the propylon chamber, most of the ones we did were in the hands of bandits or slavers, which we killed readily enough. But Telasero was inhabited by people with warped bodies who attacked us on sight."

I make a mental note that we need to clear any hostiles out of the rest of them just to make sure nothing bothers us in the propylon chambers. We haven't run into the problem so far, but I won't count on it holding true forever.

"If you do ever wind up infected, you'll need to come back," Divayth says. "The Temple would insist. You'll be well cared for in the Corprusarium."

"If I do ever wind up infected," I say, "then my friend would stop at nothing to find a cure, even if it takes him ten thousand years and a journey that spans the multiverse."

"Your lover?" Divayth says.

"It's complicated," I say.

"Ah, that sort of friend," Divayth says. "He sounds like quite the devoted friend."

I nod. "I think he mentioned that he intended to set up a workshop in Telasero to study corprus."

"I would be interested in comparing notes and hearing any theories he may come up with, then," Divayth says. "What's his name?"

"Tom," I say reflexively, before catching myself. "Well. That's a nickname. He's an Argonian and his real name is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but that's a mouthful and he dislikes it. He uses Mends-the-Soul as an alias, though, due to having to fake his death because some woman in the Mages Guild wanted him dead."

"That's quite the projected lifespan for an Argonian," Divayth says.

I chuckle. "Yeah. He's a powerful wizard, and an expert in Soul Magic. He tried a few methods to attain immortality, but the first one had some unfortunate side effects. He later found a better method that was less debilitating."

"I would definitely be interested in speaking with him, then," Divayth says.

"Sure, I'll point him this way," I say.

Luna pokes her head back in. "Stormseeker, weren't you complaining to Phoenix about telling people things you didn't want him to?"

"I'm a hypocrite," I tell her.

"Okay," Luna says cheerfully. "But if Tom kills you, don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

We return to Hlormaren. As it turned out, Gellert and Rispy had given up on plundering the dungeon after being unable to get past Divayth's patients without hurting them, and then when they did, being unable to open a chest.

"Gonna need to take you down there next time," Gellert says. "You're the one who can shout at locks to get them to open."

"Next time?" I say. "You didn't get enough of it the first time?"

"Of course not," Gellert says. "A bored, ancient wizard hides his treasures down there. I'm dying to know what those treasures are."

I snort softly. "Fine choice of words, that."

I head off to locate Tom, who after some searching I discover is up in the room we've designed as the alchemy lab, poring over a sheaf of notes.

"You've been having nightmares lately," Tom says as I come in by way of greeting.

"You've noticed?" I ask.

Tom nods. "You keep waking up gasping, clutching at the sheets, sometimes even screaming loud enough to wake everyone."

"Sorry," I say.

"How bad are they?" Tom asks.

"Nothing I can't deal with," I say.

Tom snorts softly. "Of course you'd say that."

"I mean it," I insist. "They aren't really _that_ bad."

"And you've been running into people on the streets who say they are Sleepers and who may be being influenced through their dreams by Dagoth Ur," Tom points out.

I scowl. "He's not controlling me. And I'm not sure that he's capable of doing so. But if I ever started acting weirder than usual, I'm sure one of you would notice."

"I could adapt a Dreamless Sleep potion to the local ingredients," Tom says. "Sirius stole an excellent set of alchemy equipment for me from somewhere. Hmm, perhaps an infusion of comberries with luminous russula, maybe hypha facia…"

"I'll take your word on that and keep it in mind should it become necessary," I say.

"I'll develop it and brew some stock to keep on hand, regardless," Tom says.

"Thanks," I say.

"How did your trip go?" Tom asks.

"We delivered a message to an old Telvanni who you might be very interested in speaking with," I say. "He's been studying corprus. I'm going to need to get back to Sadrith Mora to deliver his reply, but I thought you might like to know. His name is Divayth Fyr."

"I'll do that," Tom says. "It would be nice to get some information up front and not be starting from scratch, but I'm planning on attempting to apply Shaping knowledge from Terrestia to the disease."

" _Shaping_?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "As in the Geneforge? You think that might work?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out," Tom says. "I'm going to set up a Shaping lab in Telasero, install some safety precautions to seal it off in the event of catastrophic failure, and see what I can do. I don't want to set it up near anywhere anyone is actively living. But for now, I'm going to go with you to Sadrith Mora and speak with this fellow you mentioned."

After lunch and a quick nap, my team plus Tom make our way to Sadrith Mora. While Tom goes off to Tel Fyr, I return to the council hall to deliver Divayth's reply to Galos Mathendis.

"Thank you," Galos says, taking the note and passing me over some gold as payment. "I'll be sure to get this to Master Aryon."

"Anything else that needs to be done?" I ask.

"You could obtain some Cure Blight potions and deliver them to Tel Vos," Galos says. "They're running low up there and it's always good to have them on hand."

"That message you had me deliver must have been urgent if it was more important than curing potions," I say.

Galos makes no comment on that. "You can reach Tel Vos by taking a boat to Vos and then heading west up the hill."

"Does Vos have a temple?" I ask. "Can I just Almsivi Intervention there and save myself the trip?"

"I believe it does, yes," Galos says.

"You'll have to get closer," Felisa interjects. "If you cast it from here, it will put you in Ranyon-ruhn, not Vos."

"Good to know, thanks," I say. "I'll trust the local expert in teleporting away from things."

"Some enterprising young Telvanni who need more money for spell training ought to set up a teleport network between the various towers," Gellert says. "Can't let the Mages Guild get one over on us."

"Are you volunteering?" Luna asks.

"If you're heading to Tel Vos, I have another task for you from Archmagister Gothren," says, well, Gothren's Mouth. I didn't catch his name.

"What is it?" I ask, going over to him.

"My Master has discovered the location of Nchuleft. You can find it west of Tel Vos. He would like to get his hands on any Dwemer plans or schematics that can be found in there."

"Ah, excellent," I say. "I'm dying to get a look at Nchuleft. It will be my pleasure."

"And you were complaining about _my_ use of that phrase," Gellert says.

We return to Hlormaren, pick up a handful of potions from our own stores, and then head over to Vos. Sadrith Mora might be too far away, but one of the propylons is close enough. This looks like the place we wound up in by accident when trying to get to Sadrith Mora once, actually.

Around the corner and down the street between the rounded buildings, a large circular archway marks the entrance to the village. Ahead up the hill stands what looks at first glance to be an Imperial fort.

"Excuse me, sera," I say to a passerby, a Dunmer man with a mohawk and a lot of piercings. "Which way to Tel Vos? We have a delivery of Cure Blight potions we need to get there."

"Master Aryon's tower?" the punk elf says. "It's up on the hill over there." He points toward the fort. "Yes, I know, it's quite strange. He likes to try new things."

"Alright, thank you," I say. "I just didn't expect a Telvanni Master to be living in a— wait, is something growing out of that fort?"

The punk elf chuckles. "See what I mean? Go on, take a closer look and see for yourself."

I nod and big him good day, and my friends and I head up the hill. From the looks of things, it seems like someone attempted to grow the giant mushroom-plants that make up Telvanni buildings _inside_ this Imperial-style fort. A huge vine snakes its way out of one archway, a wonder that it hasn't caused any damage to the structure, but that particular archway was probably lucky, as there's definitely damage elsewhere. More than one wall has been penetrated by vines bursting out of them or forcing their way into them. Some doorways are blocked, and others open out into thin air high above.

We spend quite a bit of time wandering around lost trying to find the person we're supposed to be delivering these damned potions to. Without any labels, the map proves spectacularly unhelpful in that regard, and Tel Vos' general weirdness is playing havoc with the enchantments. Sirius didn't 'program' this map to expect this sort of architectural nightmare. Even Hogwarts wasn't this bad.

I finally stop and ask someone. "Excuse me, I have some potions of Cure Blight to deliver. Where should I take them?"

"Oh, you can find the apothecary in the Services Tower," says the armored man.

"But where is the Services Tower?" I ask.

"The northwest tower."

" _Thank_ you," I say, then peer about.

Once we're finally able to find the correct tower, we get the potions delivered without any further difficulty and get out of there.

"Bet you Choolft will be easier to find," Gellert says.

"Nchuleft," I say. "And I'm inclined to concur at this point."

"I'd imagine it shouldn't be any more difficult than walking in that direction and looking for any huge, conspicuous Dwemer towers," Gellert says.

"Oh, look, an ogrim!" Luna exclaims, pointing. A fat, scaly green humanoid is standing there, with forward-pointing horns and three thick digits on each limb.

"I don't really think he's going to be friendly," Gellert says.

"Probably not," Luna says. "They don't tend to have much to say even when they're willing to talk to people, anyway. Let's avoid him. He probably won't notice us unless we get up really close. They're pretty near-sighted."

We approach the Dwemer ruins that are probably the ones Gothren wanted us to poke around in, and head inside. Before going any further, Gellert gives me a quick nap.

Which is just as well, because we no sooner turn a corner than my skull is crushed by a droid with a spiked mace for a hand.

* * *

I wake at the entrance to Nchuleft.

"Okay, who builds skull-crushy droids?" I mutter.

"The Dwemer, apparently," Gellert comments.

"They're technically not 'droids'," Rispy says. "They're 'automatons'."

"What's the difference?" I wonder.

"One has more syllables?" Gellert suggests.

"They're not intelligent," Luna says. "They have no real minds in them. They just keep doing the last thing they were programmed to do."

"Which is crush the skull of anyone unauthorized who walks in that door," I say.

"Can we make them think we're authorized?" Luna wonders. "It would be a shame to have to damage them."

"Agreed," I say. "Let me try something."

I head in to find the automaton again, not that it's too difficult as it's patrolling back and forth down one corridor. I hope there's enough of a brain in it at least for voice commands.

" _Stand down_ ," I order in Dwemeris.

The automaton pauses.

"Deactivate defense protocols," I command.

No vocal reply. It stands staring at me through metal eyes, as if waiting for something.

"Passcode…" I say, pausing thoughtfully. "Passcode, swordfish."

The automaton shakes its head but doesn't attack me. At least that's getting somewhere. At least now I know this was a valid attempt.

"Passcode, 123456," I suggest. It shakes its head again.

"What are you telling it?" Gellert wonders.

"I'm trying to guess a passcode," I reply. "Any suggestions?"

"Did you read _Chronicles of Nchuleft_?" Luna asks. "There might be a hint in there."

"Yeah, I translated it for Hermione," I say. "Hmm." I proceed to try all the names I can remember from the book. The automaton just keeps shaking its head.

"You'd think they've have programmed it to crush your skull after a few failed attempts," Gellert says. "It's a very polite and dumb program that lets you stand there and guess passwords forever."

"Don't give it any ideas," I say.

The automaton then chooses that moment to give up on me and crush my skull.

* * *

I wake at the entrance of Nchuleft.

"Okay, that didn't work very well," I say. "Alright, I want to try something else."

"By all means," Gellert says. " _I'm_ not the one getting my skull crushed in here, after all."

I go back down and find the automaton again and say in Dwemeris, "Requesting access, username Stormseeker."

The automaton doesn't look impressed.

"Stand down and go into maintenance mode," I say.

The automaton stares at me.

"Are you just going to keep resetting until you get it to listen?" Gellert asks.

"Yes," I say firmly.

"Just checking," Gellert says. "Who wants to play 'I Spy'?"

"I spy with my little eye something that begins with ' _vehk_ '," I say.

"Oh, come on, no fair using weird alphabets," Gellert says.

The automaton continues to stare at me.

"I think you broke it," Luna says, walking up to the automaton to poke it in the nose.

"Did it actually listen to one of those commands I gave it?" I say. "Ugh, this is shoddy design, no feedback whatsoever."

"Maybe it's just not still fully working after all this time," Gellert says.

"These things _definitely_ need maintenance and upgrades, regardless," I say, going around behind the automaton to take the opportunity to poke around at its insides.

"Right, while you're doing that, I'm going to find those plans," Gellert says. "If I run into anymore of these things, I'll run away screaming like a little girl until you can tell them to leave me alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ranyon-ruhn is one of the areas added by Tamriel Rebuilt.


	13. The Dreamers

"So, you're not upset at what I told Divayth?" I ask Tom.

Tom snorts softly and shakes his head. "I had a most fascinating conversation with him and intend to speak with him more in the future. Although for what you said, you shall not complain of what _I_ told him, then."

I raise an eyebrow. "What did you tell him?"

Tom smirks. "You'll find out."

I groan. "You know, I'm just going to get to work here."

Everyone needs a hobby, and Dwemer machinery quickly becomes mine. I start collecting parts and pieces to experiment with, but I'm going to need to set up a larger, more easily accessible workshop somewhere. Like one of those strongholds, maybe.

We explore some of the old Dunmer strongholds, clear out a couple of them, even manage to convince one of them that we didn't really _want_ to fight them and to leave us alone. It's not my business if a bunch of orcs want to set up a shrine here to their god, and they didn't seem to be bothering anyone that left them alone. Remus was helpful in convincing them to back down. Much as I have no compunction against killing people who are trying to kill me, it's not my purpose here to slaughter everyone in Vvardenfell.

After evicting a group of nasty daedra from one of the strongholds, I set it up with all the intact pieces of Dwemer equipment that I can get away with stashing away. I'm sure nobody will mind me looting them for what they're worth.

I learn a levitation spell, then take the time to design a few spells of my own, with the help of Estirdalin in Balmora. One I call Bound Armory conjures up an entire set of bound armor and a longsword at once, saving me some time and effort. Bound equipment is nice, since it's totally weightless. Another spell I create is completely practical only to me. It chains three effects, all targeting myself. First it paralyzes me so I don't fall down, then puts me to sleep, then wakes me back up. I call it Magic Nap. It took quite a bit of tricky timing to get those to work in the proper order, and a few unfortunate and embarrassing mishaps in the meantime.

"There are really better ways to avoid having to sleep at night, you know," Estirdalin says. "But I shan't complain of you wishing to learn and experiment."

Using magic to avoid sleep wasn't really something I'd considered. The dreams have been getting worse. Although, considering how many people I notice in Vvardenfell who are awake at all hours of the day, maybe fatigue-reducing spells and potions are incredibly common and only chumps who want to get mind controlled actually sleep.

When I get back to Hlormaren for dinner in the common area, I ask, "Has anyone else been having strange dreams?"

I'm not sure whether it's a relief or disturbing that more than one person raises their hand.

"I probably shouldn't have told that Sleeper I was feeling left out," Gellert says with a smirk.

"We can always make ourselves sleep without dreaming," Tom says.

"Or just not sleep at all," Sirius adds. "I find there's more entertaining things to do in bed anyway."

"Werewolves can't fully sleep," Remus says. "It's the beast blood. So no, I've had no dreams."

"The Tempest decries strange dreams as a sign of 'soul sickness'," Kirlin says. "And teaches that it must be resisted by faith. Needless to say, I don't think any of you are all that interested in that answer. You know, I went and checked in at the Temple in Ald'ruhn yesterday. They wanted me to find a man in Suran who was claiming to be the Nerevarine. And said to kill him if I couldn't convince him he wasn't the Incarnate."

I blink. "Why would they want to kill the Nerevarine?"

"Right, outlanders," Kirlin says. "You really don't know."

"Outworlder with no memory of this world, unlike the rest of you, remember?" I add.

"Yeah, sometimes I forget that," Kirlin says. "The Temple persecutes anyone who claims to be the Nerevarine as a matter of course. They make quite the fuss about it. They've killed several 'False Incarnates' over the years. So I wouldn't go around proclaiming who you are publicly just yet unless you're prepared to make some waves."

"I wasn't planning on it, regardless," I say.

Kirlin nods. "I haven't had any dreams. Not yet, at any rate, I suppose. What were you all dreaming about?"

"I dreamed of a man in a golden mask," I say.

"I saw him too," Gellert says. "He spoke to me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying."

"I understood him," I say. "He called the Tribunal liars, traitors, and thieves, and declared them false gods."

"Sounds like someone is sure pissy about something," Gellert says.

"You know, I've been reading through the Lessons of Vivec, and I've noticed some interesting things," I say. "They contradict one another. Pretty badly in some cases."

"How can you tell?" Gellert says. "They make no damned sense to begin with."

"Hermione, have you taken a look at them?" I ask.

Hermione sighs. "I skimmed through them, but it's all religion and metaphor."

"And some of those metaphors you should recognize," I point out.

"Well, true," Hermione says. "I suppose I'll take another look. But some of the passages in there are positively pornographic."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather snuggle up with some weird dreams than even think about looking at those things again," Gellert says lightly.

"Luna, thoughts?" I ask.

"I think it's not so simple as truth or lie," Luna says. "But who you trust. And how much you trust them."

"Well, I trust _you_ ," I say with a grin.

Luna smiles back at me. "But do you trust the man in the book more, or the man in the mask?"

"Neither have particularly endeared themselves to me," I say. "But I think I'm due for another trip to Vivec City. Coming?"

"Always," Luna says brightly.

* * *

It would probably be simpler to just use a Guild Guide to get to Vivec City, but I'm feeling cheap enough that spending ten drakes when I don't have to seems pointless. We reclaimed the propylon network for a reason, after all. So we take the propylon to Telasero, use Divine Intervention to teleport to Ebonheart, then use Almsivi Intervention to get to Vivec. Chaining teleports like this seems a bit of a roundabout way of getting around, but it does the job, and for free.

The first thing that strikes my eye is the giant, floating rock hovering over the Temple.

"Vivec's milk-finger, what the fuck is _that_?" Gellert utters.

"I'll second your colorful profanity," I comment. "I think I read about this in one of the Lessons of Vivec. It was flung from the heavens, and Vivec stopped it with his power and kept it hanging there. Nerevar asked if he wanted it destroyed, and Vivec replied that he'd leave it there, suspended in the air with its last intention intact, ready to destroy his people should their love for him ever fade."

"At least someone has read that bit of craziness," Gellert says.

"I didn't expect it to be quite this literal, or this _big_ ," I say. "Especially when it came after a bizarre passage about Vivec having shat it out after eating pomegranates or something."

"So he's effectively holding the city hostage with an asteroid?" Luna says quietly.

"Apparently," I say.

Luna turns to look to the south, toward Vivec's palace. "I can see him from here. His aura is so bright. Like a small sun. And… strange. Like he's there and not-there at the same time."

"So _is_ he a god?" Gellert asks.

"I have no basis for comparison," Luna says. "But I have never seen an aura like that before. And I see _titles_ falling around him like rain." She turns away. "It hurts to look for too long."

"Even from this far away?" I wonder.

Luna nods. She leans close and whispers, "Do not trust him. He bears two faces, and both of them lie."

We spend some time wandering and exploring the streets of the Holy City, looking out over the canals, and randomly getting called scum by guys in golden armor. I'd only seen a bit of the Foreign Quarter last time I was here, since I left with Sirius once I found him. Now I need to get a better look at the place.

Vivec City is _huge_. Several pyramid-like structures, called cantons, are situated amidst the canals. There's a canton for each of the three Great Houses with holdings on Vvardenfell, an arena, two which I think are for poor people, a temple, and Vivec's palace itself. Naturally, we take the opportunity to visit every pub in town while we're at it.

"Did you hear about the murders?" says the barkeep in the Flowers of Gold, the pub in Redoran canton.

"Which murders?" I ask.

"Someone's been killing outlanders, mostly," the barkeep says, leaning her elbows on the counter. "So you'd better look out. But two Ordinators are dead now, too! Can you believe it, _Ordinators_? Dead before they could even draw a weapon?"

Considering the Ordinators mostly seem to get their jollies off of intimidating tourists, I haven't really been able to judge their actual combat ability yet, not that I was in any rush to do so if I can help it. I kindly don't mention that, though.

"Someone must have been awfully quick to manage that," Rispy says. "Or caught them by surprise."

"Yeah," the barkeep agrees. "Normally I'd trust the Ordinators to be able to handle this, but now? I asked a few good, strong Redoran warriors to hang around, not to be 'officially' guarding anything, but just to keep an eye out, you know? Makes a woman nervous. And you know, I love outlanders as much as the next Dunmer, but I've gotta make money, and I haven't been selling much flin to anyone else. Nobody else is going to buy this imported stuff."

"Is the city watch in the habit of employing outsiders?" I wonder.

"Generally not," the barkeep says. "But I hear they might make an exception in this case, since their own haven't been able to handle it. You lot look like adventurers. Couldn't hurt to go ask. And just between you and me, even if they can't 'officially' sanction it, I'll feel better if I know someone isn't going to be killing my customers in the hallway."

I down the last of my greef and stand up. "Alright, folks, who's up for it?"

"You're drunk, Lexen," Rispy comments.

"Pfft, it was just greef," I say. "You're the one who was drinking sujamma."

We head out and make our way through the city to the Temple canton, where the offices of the watch are apparently located. Luna averts her eyes as we approach so that she doesn't have to look in the direction of Vivec's palace.

"Ah, a group of adventurers?" says a Dunmer man. "I am Elam Andas, chief of the Order of the Watch here in Vivec City. Are you looking for work?"

I nod. "We heard something about murders in the city. Even Ordinators being killed."

"Yes, a grim business," Elam says, nodding. "They were on duty and fully armed and armored, but their weapons were still in their belts. All the victims had their throats slit, and most of them hadn't even put up a fight. Nothing was looted from their bodies."

"You must not have a very active population of beggars, then," Gellert says wryly. "Or have found them quickly enough."

Elam generously ignores Gellert's comment. "I can't hire you. I can't even officially accept any sort of commitment. But I _can_ give you whatever information we have on the case, and hope that something unfortunate happens to the perpetrator. And I can warn you to watch one another's backs so that one of you doesn't wind up being the next victim." Elam lists where the victims were found. "And I suspect that the Ordinators caught the killer in the act and they were killed to cover up the crime."

"And there were no witnesses, I presume," I say. "It would be sloppy to leave any, after being thorough enough to kill Ordinators."

"There was an outlander who reported being threatened by a Dunmer woman with a dagger," Elam says. "He teleported away before he could get a good look, though."

I snort, then shake my head. "Useless. No one who so quietly and skillfully executes people like that would openly threaten someone. And I'm sure that's hardly the only case of a Dunmer threatening an outlander lately."

"Usually Dunmer don't threaten outlanders with daggers," Elam says. "Not in my city. Not under my watch. We don't normally have anything worse than the occasional bar brawl."

"I suppose I can look into it, but I still think it's a false lead," I say.

"It's the only lead we have at the moment," Elam says.

"When did these crimes take place?" I ask.

Elam lists some times and dates. None of them were today, which nixes my idea of going back in time to shadow the would-be victim and see what happens.

"Alright, well, I suppose we'll go see if we can dig anything up," I say. "I'll let you know if we find anything interesting."

"Almsivi be with you," Elam says.

So, following that incredibly shitty lead, we make our way to Hlaalu canton and wander around asking absolutely everyone if they've seen a woman with a dagger, to no avail.

"There's a distinct lack of people with daggers in Vivec City, apparently," Gellert says.

We run into another Sleeper on one of the lower levels. "Lord Dagoth calls. The day of reckoning looms closer. Take heed, outlanders. Leave this land. There will be no place for you under Lord Dagoth."

"Is Lord Dagoth calling or telling us to leave?" Gellert says. "You're kind of contradicting yourself here."

"When Lord Dagoth wakes, he shall sweep the outlanders from our realm."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Gellert says, and we move on.

We keep asking people. No one has seen any women with daggers. Not that they're willing to tell us, anyway, but I should think they might seem suspicious if they were hiding something. No one seems suspicious.

"This is a waste of time," I mutter.

"You're a fine one to complain about wasting time," Gellert points out. "Besides, we came here to waste time and get wasted."

"Well, I'm wasting my wasted time," I say. "This killer has covered their tracks well."

"Probably Illusion magic," Gellert says.

"If it's Illusion magic, then we should be able to track them with mana reading," I say. "Magicka reading. Whichever. Let's go to the spot where the most recent victim was killed and see if we can detect any residue."

We head over to the Foreign Quarter and try to locate the correct corridor where Elam said the last murder took place. Since her eyes are best, Luna scans the area intently for any trace of magic. As we're busy paying attention to that, we don't notice someone practically sneaking up on us. I spin around with a spell ready in my hand before realizing it's just a dark-skinned human man, unarmed.

"Whoa, didn't mean to startle you there!" he exclaims. "You can put away the magic there."

"Sorry, a bit jumpy right now, what with the murders."

"Well… Here! I have a leaflet for you to read. It contains very important information!"

I take the leaflet, hoping that it's something about the crimes. Instead, it's a rant about the shoddy business practices of someone I haven't heard of. I crumple it up and set it on fire. "Why are you wasting my time with this? I'm looking for a murderer here!"

"Oh," says the man, deflating. "I thought you might—"

"Look," I say firmly. "Unless you've seen or heard anything about a Dunmer woman with a dagger, wearing netch leather, then I'm really not interested in talking to you right now. If you can help me, then I might be bothered to care about this shopkeeper you have a problem with. _Might._ "

"Hmm, come to think, I believe I heard someone, one of the cleaners maybe, mention that they'd spotted a Dunmer woman in the sewers. Seems strange for anyone to be down there who isn't just there to clean or kill rats, never mind a Dunmer. They don't really come to the Foreign Quarter that much."

"That's still more of a lead than we had before," I say, then glance to my friends. "Let's check it out."

"Worst case, it's just a bum," Rispy says.

"Might be a thief," Gellert adds.

"Might be the killer we're looking for," I say.

We head down to the lowest level of the canton, down stairs and finally a ladder. After some searching, and killing a few rats just because they were there, we spot a Dunmer woman with a particularly nasty-looking dagger. She approaches us when she sees us.

"Hey," I say, holding up a hand. "Hold on. There's no need to attack us. I just want to talk a bit first, alright? Who are you?"

"I dream the dreams of the Sixth House," she replies.

"I was really hoping for a name, but if that's all you're going to give me, then I suppose I'll just call you Dreamer," I say.

"You're not the only one who has been dreaming," Luna says quietly. "We see his face in our sleep as well. We hear his words."

"Who is he?" I ask. "The one in the golden mask?"

"Yes!" the Dreamer exclaims. "You have seen him! You have witnessed a brief glimpse of the glory that is Lord Dagoth Ur!"

"Did you kill those people?" Rispy asks.

"I killed them," the Dreamer says. "There is no shame in my divine purpose. The outlanders are the blight upon this land, and that which they call _blight_ is Lord Dagoth's blessing that will sweep them away."

"And the Ordinators?" I ask.

"Servants of the Lord-Lady of Lies!" the Dreamer cries out. "One of the Three Thieves who enslaved this land and gave it to an empire who knows nothing of us! We are all but slaves to their oppression, but Lord Dagoth will free us!"

"Oh dear, she said the S-word," Rispy says.

"I think I'm starting to understand the hatred of foreigners," I grate out.

"You need not deny Lord Dagoth," the Dreamer says. "Go to him with open arms and he will purge your cursed outland flesh, and you will be born anew beneath Red Mountain."

"I'll think about it," I say vaguely. "But for the moment, we have a problem. You've been killing people, and the watch are after you. Even if we let you go here and now, they'll catch up to you eventually, You can't hide forever."

"I carry the blessing of Lord Dagoth!" the Dreamer says. "They cannot find me. Not so long as their minds are wrapped in the fluff of the Liar's Temple. You, though. You could find me. You, too, have been touched by dreams. So, will it be you who slays me, then? Will you send me swift to Lord Dagoth's sweet embrace?"

"I can't let you keep killing people," I say.

"Only _you_ are allowed to kill people to make your point," Gellert tells me.

I roll my eyes. "No, everyone is allowed to kill people to make their point, but I'm allowed to kill them to make my point that I don't like them killing people."

"Dreamer-in-Ashes," Luna says, looking to the Dreamer. "Why are you still here, when Lord Dagoth is calling you?"

The Dreamer stares at Luna for a long moment. "I must go. Lord Dagoth is calling. I must go to Red Mountain. You should come to Red Mountain as well."

"We have some things to take care of here first," I say.

"I need your dagger," Luna says. "It sings with the song of ash. Give it to me that I might find the way in the storm."

Hesitantly, reluctantly, the Dreamer passes over the weapon to Luna, then turns and walks away. We climb up the ladder and close the trapdoor behind us.

"Luna?" Gellert mumbles. "What the fuck was that? You're weirding me out here, girl."

Luna giggles. "We need 'evidence' to show the watchmen, don't we?"

"Not that," Gellert says with a smirk.

"Sorry, did you want to murder her?" Luna says.

"Oh, never mind," Gellert says.

"Let's just go back to the watch offices and tell them we found the killer," I say. "We can conveniently avoid mentioning what happened with said killer afterward."

"The watch offices are next to the Temple," Gellert says. "Let's just cast Almsivi Intervention from here so that we don't have to walk across town."

"I cannot dispute your reasoning," I say.

One spell later, we head in to locate Elam Andas again. Which doesn't turn out to be difficult, because he's in the same place he was when we spoke with him before.

"Ah, hello again, adventurers," Elam says. "Do you have anything you wish to discuss with the Watch?"

"We found a Dunmer woman wearing netch leather armor and wielding this dagger," I say, gesturing to Luna. "Red hair, orange eyes, severe features. She admitted to the murders and gave some mad ramblings. I think she must have been some sort of cultist. Either way, she won't be bothering anyone around here any longer."

"That is the best news I have heard all day," Elam says. "Here, you can choose your reward for your efforts." She pulls out some items, but before she can finish or say anything about them, Gellert interrupts.

"Belt!" Gellert says. "Dibs on the belt!"

"You already have a belt, Gellert," I say.

"You can never have too many belts," Gellert insists.

I throw up my hands and sigh. "Fine, just give him the belt if it'll make him happy."

* * *

Upon returning to Hlormaren, I head into the library to see how Hermione's been doing.

"Lexen," Hermione says when I come in, before I can even say hello. "I found something. Look at this." She pushes _The Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec: Sermon Thirty-Six_ into my hands.

I take it and sit down, and read through it. It tells, in fairly obscure and metaphorical terms, about the battle of Red Mountain and the events that led to the death of Nerevar — me, I guess I should say — and the disappearance of the Dwemer. Apparently they're connected in some way.

"Yes, it's fascinating," I say.

"Read closer," Hermione says.

"What am I looking for?" I wonder.

"Read the first letter of each paragraph," Hermione says.

Frowning, I flip back to the beginning of the book again and read through. "FOUL MURDER?"

Hermione nods. "It was pretty obvious once I actually started looking at these mad ramblings. Once I discovered that, I've been trying to find more hidden messages. We don't have all the books yet, so I think we're still missing some important pieces of the puzzle, though."

I put the book down on the table and push it away. "Foul murder," I repeat. "But who murdered who?"

"You always try to see the perspectives," Luna says with a grin. "But you don't have their eyes."

"There's another lead I think I have, too," Hermione says, handing me _Sermon Twenty-Nine_.

I open it up and look through it. It lists 'The Scripture of Numbers'. It lists thirty-six titles, each with a number associated with it. Raising an eyebrow, I look back to Hermione.

"I don't think the number thirty-six is a coincidence there," Hermione says. "I'm guessing that each title has something to do with each of the books. But since we don't have all the books yet, I don't think we'll be able to piece together exactly what, yet. I'll keep looking."

"The number thirty-six is a curiosity in and of itself," Tom says, coming over to our table.

"Why is that?" I wonder.

"It should be thirty-seven," Tom says.

"What makes you say that?" I ask.

"Remember what I told you about odd and even numbers before?" Tom says. "Even numbers are unlucky. Thirty-six is a square of misfortune. It needs a thirty-seven to balance it out."

"I'll take your word on that," I say.

"Well, if anyone ever happens to run across a thirty-seventh sermon, you can say you told us so," Hermione says. "I've had my hands full with just what we have here. Here, you can take a look at my notes if you like." She pulls out a sheaf of papers. "I've been cross-referencing whatever symbols and references I can make sense of in the Lessons of Vivec with subjects mentioned in other books. Here I have a bibliography organized by author and page number."

"Good work, Hermione," I say. "I'll totally look at that tomorrow."


	14. Secret Messages

At this point, I think I'm just taking weird dreams in stride. They're not nearly as bad as Dementor nightmares. They're not even as bizarre as all the fragments of memory I kept dredging up while flying around the galaxy. They are, however, worrying. I don't want to wind up like the mad Dreamers we've encountered. But, realistically, I know I've been able to shake off almost any form of mind control that's been used against me.

_I have seen the face of evil…_

… almost any. I'm not sure where Dagoth Ur stands, power-wise, compared to the Sith Emperor. But don't they claim that he's a god? How can I stand against a god? What am I going to do in a war between two gods?

Well. I defeated a god once. I can do it again.

But which one?

I need more information, and I decide that it's past time to see Caius again. I head back to Balmora, along with Rispy, who again insists on coming along with me to watch my back.

"Ah, it's you two again," Caius says, looking between me and Rispy. "Ready for more orders? Found out anything in the meantime?"

"We keep running across Sleepers," I say. "One of them was murdering people in Vivec up until we stopped her." No need to mention just _how_ we stopped her. "And we've been having strange dreams."

"That's worrisome," Caius says. "Be careful who you mention that to. At best, the Temple will think you're mad. At worst, they'll think you're a witch. Especially if you have strange dreams and you think there's some meaning to them. Either way, they'll want to lock you up. And people who they take up to the Ministry of Truth don't often come back, or when they do, they're not the same."

"Ministry of Truth?" I ask.

"That giant rock floating above Vivec?" Caius says. "They hollowed it out and put a prison and re-education facility in there."

"Oh, for Akatosh's sake," I mutter.

"My thoughts exactly," Caius says. "I love Morrowind and all, but I have to find some of the things the Temple does a little questionable."

"Well, I definitely wasn't planning on mentioning it to just anyone," I say. "I might be mad, but I'm not crazy."

"That's good to hear," Caius says. "I think."

"So what have you got for us?" I ask.

"I want you to head back to Vivec City and interview some of my informants," Caius says. "Hopefully you know your way around there by now."

I nod. "Getting there, at any rate. And I think we earned a bit of goodwill with the watch after we dealt with that murderer."

"Good, hopefully they won't think you're anyone suspicious, then," Caius says. "Just be careful while you're there, and use some common sense."

Rispy snickers to himself but says nothing. I roll my eyes at him.

"Use… whatever you have that passes for common sense," Caius amends. "Try not to get my informants in any sort of trouble. And lest I forget—" He hands me a jingling pouch. "—here's some money for bribes and other expenses. And here's the information you'll need. Names and where you can find them. Get whatever information you can get from them about the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House cult. They all owe me favors, so they should be willing to cooperate."

I put the money and note away, and nods. I might not be in such dire need of spare change at the moment, but I'm never one to turn down money.

"I'll see what I can do," I say.

"One of those names on the list is a priestess named Mehra Milo," Caius says. "She's a friend of mine, and the Temple may not be happy to see her talking to outlanders about religious matters, so take care what you say in public."

"Don't worry," I say. "I am a paragon of discretion."

Rispy covers his mouth with his hand to disguise sniggering. I put my face in my palm.

"Maybe I should send someone else…" Caius says with a smirk. "Don't mention Mehra's name to anyone in the Temple. I don't want them to know that she's talking to an outlander."

"You know, that could easily be solved if you don't mind if I send one of my friends to do it," I say. "The one I mentioned who's a native Dunmer and a priestess herself?"

"If you think that's the best way to handle it, then I'll leave it to your discretion so long as it gets done," Caius says. "It might be safer, admittedly. Provided your priestess friend isn't too much of a Temple hardliner."

"She's not," I say. "Kirlin is more interested in helping people, and doesn't like some of the things the Temple does. She always gets on my case if I try to procrastinate over anything that needs to be done. And I tell her it's not procrastinating, it's gaining goodwill and establishing myself. She says the temple wanted her to find someone who was claiming to be the Nerevarine and kill them if necessary, and she quite pointedly told me she had no intention of doing any such thing. Poor bastard's probably just been getting driven mad by bad dreams."

"Who knows, maybe he's _actually_ the Nerevarine," Caius jokes.

"Not a chance," I say with a smirk.

Not unless there's weird non-linear temporal bullshit going on, I add silently. In which case, I'm not even going to try to make sense of it or dignify that weirdness with any serious consideration. Rispy, thankfully, says nothing.

"If that'll be all, I'll be off to Vivec then," I say.

* * *

We return to Hlormaren to make plans, and I call people to the war room to lay out the mission.

"Alright, so it looks like we have three informants to find and question," I say.

"And it would probably attract too much attention to take a full party for them," Rispy says.

"Agreed," I say. "We've got a priestess here that Caius doesn't want to get in trouble for speaking with outlanders. Kirlin, I'm hoping you'd be willing to talk to her?"

Kirlin nods. "Of course. I took care of that false Incarnate, by the way. By which I mean convinced him to give it up, not 'took care of'. I told him I knew who the real Nerevarine was, and that it's not him, and that he was keeping quiet until he was ready to reveal himself." She chuckles. "You'll probably be amused to know that they considered killing someone to check whether they're the real Nerevarine or not a reasonable solution. Because the real Nerevarine wouldn't stay dead."

I smirk. "They know me too well, apparently. Alright, next up, there's a Khajiit thief."

"Sounds like a job for me," Sirius says with a grin.

I go on, "And the last one is an Argonian assassin who is also apparently a lover of history and a bookworm."

Hermione perks up. "I want to go meet him. It's about time I got out of the stronghold for a while and I've been dying to see Vivec, from the way you've described it."

"But… wait, what does that leave _me_ to do?" I wonder.

"Get drunk?" Sirius suggests.

"Read?" Hermione adds.

"Have sex?" Gellert says, waggling his eyebrows.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "Alright, well, either way, here's who you're looking for and where they are." I lay the information Caius gave me on the table. "Just tell them you're working for Caius and ask them anything they know about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults. More importantly, _I_ want this information, too, but it seems like our own goals coincide with Caius' for the moment."

"Agreed," Tom says. "It's quickly becoming clear just why Azura sent us here."

"Somebody's got to sort out this mess," I say. "It's just a matter of figuring out whose asses I need to kick to do it."

"Possibly everyone's," Tom comments.

"If I need to kick everyone's asses, I'll have to get started on it early," I say wryly.

"You're probably just going to go play with your machines, though," Gellert says.

"No, I think I'll just go find some slavers to slaughter," I say. "I need to blow off some steam, and not Dwemer machinery steam."

"I'm right behind you," Gellert says.

* * *

After each of us returning from our respective missions, self-imposed or otherwise, we reconvene in the war room for a debriefing.

"Alright, so what has everyone found out?" I ask.

"The Khajiit thief was hiding from a taxman," Sirius says. "Can't blame her. No idea why anyone tries to tax _Khajiit_. Once I got him off her tail, she talked my ear off about the strange behavior she'd noticed from smugglers lately. From the sounds of things, they've all gotten well-paying and top-secret jobs that they can't stop tittering about while not specifying."

"Well, that's not suspicious or anything…" I drawl. "What in Oblivion are they smuggling?"

"Sadly, she couldn't tell me that," Sirius says.

"The priestess told me quite a bit about the Dissident Priests," Kirlin says, going first. "Some of this I'd already known myself, but some was a bit of a surprise just how far they'd gone. The Ordinators have a free hand in persecuting anyone that disagrees with their line on the Nerevarine, claiming that anyone questioning the Temple weakens their faith, and faith is what gives the Tribunal the power to hold back Dagoth Ur. The Dissident Priests, though, have collected many ancient prophecies of the Nerevarine, called the Lost Prophecies."

"Great, more prophecies," I groan.

"She was afraid she might be being watched by Ordinators, though, and gave me a code word to use if she got in trouble," Kirlin goes on. "'Amaya'."

I make note of that.

"She also recommended that I pick up a copy of the book _Progress of Truth_ for Caius Cosades," Kirlin says. "It's illegal, but she thought I might be able to find it in a bookstore that ignores the local laws. When I went to the rare book store in the Foreign Quarter to try to find it, though, I ran into Hermione who told me we already had a copy. Gellert probably stole it from somewhere."

"Dare I ask or even remotely be surprised that you wound up in a bookstore?" I wonder.

"Well, the Argonian bookworm assassin was being harassed by some racists," Hermione says.

"Racist Dunmer?" Gellert asks wryly.

Hermione snorts softly. "This _is_ Morrowind. Anyway, they were going to attack him if he tried to leave, so I asked if he'd be alright for just five minutes, and ducked in down the street to place a Mark in the bookstore he was trying to get to. When I went back there, I just Recalled with him."

"That's one way to deal with it," I say, chuckling.

"He knew a lot about the Nerevarine cult," Hermione says. "The Ashlanders hate the 'civilized' Dunmer, who they think have become soft in their nice houses and dealings with the Empire. They also hate the outlanders, believing they — well, we, I guess, though _I_ certainly wasn't responsible for this. They believe outlanders invaded their land and forced them to live as subjects of the Empire. They believe Nerevar will return and destroy the false gods of The Tribunal, drive the outlanders from their lands, and free them."

I nod. "That's understandable."

"They've been steadily forced into worse lands ever since the Great Houses were founded," Hermione goes on. "The Houses claimed more and more land for themselves and pushed them off into the lands nobody wanted."

"I was _wondering_ why they were loitering around the shittiest part of the island," Sirius says.

"I guess they had no better options," I say. "They weren't strong enough to directly fight both the Great Houses and the Empire, so they choose to retreat rather than lose too many of their own fighting a battle they knew they couldn't win."

"And they're probably pretty angry about it, yeah," Remus says. "Imagine a time when they could have freely roamed all of Morrowind."

"The Ashlanders say that Nerevar's death was no accident and not the doing of their enemies in the war, but that the Tribunal murdered him," Hermione says. "They then set themselves up as gods and betrayed Nerevar's promises to the Ashlanders."

"So… foul murder," I say quietly.

"All evidence seems to point to that _someone_ murdered you," Tom says.

I drum my fingers on the table. "You know, if the Tribunal were very close to me, they may have known about my power. They may have killed me intentionally to try to force a reset, knowing that I'd not be permanently dead. Maybe something terrible had happened that they wanted to give me a chance to prevent. I may have even asked them to do it, and the story got blown out of proportion. I may have even committed suicide, and they got blamed for it."

Gellert says, "Or they may have killed you, knowing that you'd stay dead or otherwise, just to make sure you didn't interfere with whatever they were trying to do."

"Well, I have some interesting news to share, myself," Tom says. "I've been speaking with Divayth Fyr, and I believe I've come up with our solution to our expanded, portable storage."

"This should be good," Gellert says.

"The key, of course, lies not in altering the dimensions of the enclosed space, but by making the space inside a pocket of Oblivion," Tom goes on.

"Wait a minute," I say. "You're suggesting putting our tent _in hell_?"

"Well, technically Oblivion is not precisely analogous—" Tom begins.

I put my hand up and cut him off. "I'm not objecting, I just find it hilarious. Also potentially dangerous."

"With proper safeguards, it would likely be safer than having our main base somewhere like Hlormaren," Tom says. "Especially if the entrance were keyed to our collective soul signature and only allow entrance to us or with our consent."

"I'm curious as to what exactly you had to tell Divayth to get him to part with this information," I say.

"Oh, I told him everything I know about lifecrafting," Tom says lightly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Because bringing Terrestian Shaping to Nirn could not _possibly_ go wrong in any conceivable way?"

"This is already a field he has been studying," Tom says. "Did you know his daughters are actually clones?"

"Clones?" Gellert says. "But they're female."

"It's a simple matter to make a female clone from male genes, simply by omitting the Y chromosome," Tom says. "The result is an XO female, who is infertile, but I don't imagine he considers that to be a drawback."

"I didn't understand any of that," Sirius comments.

"Never mind, dear," Tom says with a smirk. "Anyway, I have the principles down, but putting them into a workable prototype will take some time and experimentation."

"Right, so I'll not be too surprised at sudden resets, then," I say. "I'm also curious what you told him to explain _where_ exactly you learned about lifecrafting from."

"He didn't ask," Tom says. "And I didn't ask where he learned anything _he_ knew."

"Well enough, I guess," I say. "Alright, great work, everyone. Do you have that copy of _Progress of Truth_?"

Kirlin nods and passes over the book to me. "I read through it and found it very interesting."

"I'll read it myself and then take it and everyone's notes over to Caius," I say.

As people file out of the room to go do their own thing, I take a seat and open up the book.

What I find is shocking, even though I know it shouldn't surprise me. That the Tribunal lied about how they attained godhood. I knew just from reading the Lessons of Vivec that they contradicted themselves in it, in some places asserting themselves to have been always divine. The Temple claims that they attained godhood through virtue, questing, knowledge, and battling evil. But _Progress of Truth_ suggests that the Tribunal gained their divinity from Red Mountain, the same source as Dagoth Ur, using enchanted Dwemer tools. These tools were also apparently responsible for the creation of a construct called the Numidium. I think I read or heard about that somewhere else, but I can't remember where, now. All things considered, it's impossible to tell which life I even remember that from.

I wonder if I have enough information to piece together my memories as Nerevar. Did I keep any journals? If what I'm reading is accurate, the Tribunal may have destroyed any journals I did make in order to cover up the real version of the story. That's disheartening. I wish I had even one solid image to get my handle on a memory, though.

I tuck the book and papers away and teleport to Balmora to visit Caius along with Rispy.

"Back already?" Caius says. "Let me see what you found out."

I pass over the materials. "I didn't even go to Vivec. My friends volunteered."

"I think it might be time for me to meet these friends of yours," Caius says. "Besides the Khajiit."

"Sure," I say. "I can Recall you to Hlormaren whenever you like."

"Let's go now," Caius says.

I put an arm around both him and Rispy, and teleport us home. It's still quite an effort to teleport multiple people at once, but we've been working on ways to improve the spell, and it's not like I was going to be doing anything with my magicka immediately after arriving anyway.

"Rispy, can you call everyone back to the war room, please?" I ask.

Rispy nods and runs off.

"You have a war room," Caius comments.

"I certainly don't have a fucking peace room," I say with a wry grin, leading him inside. "They might be a little annoyed at me bringing guests over without warning them first, though."

We arrive at the war room. Caius comes in and takes a good look around, and inspects the map thoughtfully for a long moment before blinking as something on it moves. "That map is magic?"

Sirius chuckles as he comes in. "Only the finest in magical maps. Designed by yours truly." He gives a bow. "Sirius Nigellus, at your service. Fortunately for you, I still had my trousers on. Although I guess given your own attire, I may as well have come half-naked myself."

As people file in, we give introductions. If Tom or anyone else is annoyed about the unexpected guest, they don't say anything about it, though.

"So, this is the fellow we were supposed to be getting that information for?" Hermione says.

"I'm Caius Cosades." He looks around the room at everyone. "Lexen. You have your own spy network."

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that…" Remus begins.

"Yes," Sirius says. "He totally has his own spy network."

"And magical researchers," Tom adds.

"And a small army, in a pinch," Rispy puts in.

"This is quite the operation you have going here," Caius says. "You've been able to stay undercover?"

"For the most part," Hermione says. "Gellert is pretty bad at it, though. I had to tell him to stay out of the Balmora Mages Guild because people were starting to think he was hiding something."

"It's not my fault I'm too good for them," Gellert retorts.

I roll my eyes. "And we're not _even_ mentioning Baladas."

Gellert groans. "Okay, okay, point taken."

"For the most part, we're respectable members of our respective factions," Remus says. "Most of us aren't even known to be associated with one another."

"Gellert, Luna, and Rispy is the usual team I'm seen with," I say.

"You'd think you lot have done this spy business before," Caius says with a crooked grin, then at the shifty looks some of us start making, quickly adds, "Don't answer that."

"Let's debrief," I say.

It's probably a testament to how used to repetition we get that nobody complains about rehashing what we've just gone over for Caius' benefit. Once we're done, I send him off again with _Progress of Truth_ , the notes I'd been given, and an Almsivi Intervention scroll so that he doesn't have to be seen arriving in Balmora with one of us.

* * *

"Lexen," Hermione says, waving me over to her desk in the library. "You should see this."

I come over and look over her shoulder. "Found something interesting?"

"I've decoded most of the message from _Sermon Twenty-Nine_ , cross-referenced with the Lessons that we already have," Hermione says.

"I'm still wondering about the whole 'foul murder' bit," I say. "Seems like everyone blames everyone else for my death. 'Who killed Nerevar?' is Morrowind's greatest mystery or something. You know, it's kind of funny. I don't often wind up getting the chance to see what happens in a world _after_ I die. I wonder how many times I've left behind a mess like this before."

"Lots, I'm sure," Gellert inserts brightly.

"Here's what I have so far," Hermione says, pulling out a paper. "There isn't a number mentioned for _Sermon Eighteen_. This might be significant. I don't know, either way we don't have _Sermon Eighteen_ on hand regardless."

"Eighteen seems strange," Tom muses. "It should be seventeen."

"Under the circumstances, I'm not going to debate your numerology," I comment.

"The message is…" Hermione says, reading from her notes dramatically. "'He was not born a god. His destiny did not lead _blank_ to this crime. _Blank_ chose this path of his own free will. He stole the godhood. _Blank, blank, blank, blank_. Vivec wrote this.'"

I stare at her silently for a long moment. "Well, shit."

Gellert wonders, "What were those last four blanks?"

"Which sermons are we missing still?" Tom asks.

"Twelve, sixteen, eighteen, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three," Hermione replies.

"So, presuming this is probably talking about Vivec…" I say. "Seeing as these are the lessons of Vivec, after all." I chuckle softly. "You know, it almost seems like he left this shit directly for me. If he knew me at all, he'd know exactly what I think of _destiny_ bullshit, and the importance of free will above all else. It's almost reassuring."

"Then who was he warning you about that murdered you?" Gellert asks. "Dagoth Ur?"

"Definitely seems like a possibility we can't discount right now," I say.

"There's another possibility we need to consider," Hermione says. "The Dragon Break."

"The time breaking shit?" I wonder. "How does that relate to this?"

"I mean, with all these contradictory recounts, what if _all_ of them all true?" Hermione asks. "What if all of them happened in different resets due to your Time Magic, and caused a Dragon Break that left people with contradictory memories of events?"

"There's a point to that," Tom says. "We did see a few similar effects in the last world."

I groan. "Don't remind me."

"I'm reminding you," Tom says. "About how things you'd done in one timeline affected the next. Echoes through time that should not have been."

"The storm was a fuckup, I know," I say.

"Not just the storm," Tom says. "Do you remember when the two of us first bonded? Magic rippled from one timeline to the next. A knife retained energy as though it had performed multiple living sacrifices even when it had not performed any at all in that timeline."

"Time strained to the breaking point," Hermione says quietly.

"Well," I muse. "What could have possibly caused that at Nerevar's death at Red Mountain all those years ago?"

They're quiet for a minute before Hermione finally says, "I don't know. I'll need to do more research."

"Wait," I say. "Hermione, did you ever run across anything that mentioned something called the 'Numidium'?"

"Numidium?" Hermione repeats. "Yes, that was the construct that caused the 'Warp in the West', the last Dragon Break. Why? Was it involved here somehow?"

" _Progress of Truth_ mentioned it," I say. "It speculated that the Tribunal gained their divinity using the Dwemer tools that had created the Numidium."

"That might not be a good sign, yes," Tom says. "Although remember that your own power _by itself_ may be enough to cause a Dragon Break, if pushed far enough."

"How do I know that every death I experience doesn't cause a Dragon Break?" I wonder. "I'm never in a timeline after I die to know what the people there are experiencing."

"I won't rule out that possibility, then," Tom says. "But I do mean when it starts affecting the timeline you wind up in even though it should not."

"That mainly seems to happen when a life sacrifice of _myself_ is involved," I say. "Which… if Nerevar was murdered…"

"Exactly," Tom says. "If you were _ritually_ murdered…'

I put my face in my palm. "Like the situation wasn't complicated _enough_ to begin with."

"You are the Paragon of Complicated," Gellert says.

"Right, you know what?" I say. "Enough of this headache. I'm going to go take a nap and then go murder Therana. Who's with me?"


	15. Out from the Ash

I decide to take a boat to Tel Branora. That is to say, I spend the entire boat ride sitting cross-legged and hovering two feet above the deck.

"If you're just going to levitate the whole way there, why did you bother to hire me?" the boatmaster grumbles.

"Because my Khajiit friend is not a mage," I say.

"Well enough, I guess," the boatmaster says. "I get paid either way. It's just distracting."

"I'm trying to practice my levitation magic and seeing how long I can maintain it without losing my concentration," I say. "Using a moving object as an anchor point, as well, which is distracting to _me_ , too."

"You're doing pretty well so far," Luna says.

"You can say that once I can get there without falling in the drink at least once," I say.

I only wind up falling into the water twice on the way there. The other half dozen times my levitation spell gave out, it at least deposited me on the deck. We disembark and head up into the tower, at which point I cast a quick Magic Nap and prepare for battle.

"Is that her?" I ask Rispy quietly, pointing into a nook off the side of the upper corridor above the levitation shaft.

Rispy nods silently. The four of us head in and take positions.

"What are you here for?" Therana asks. "This had better be a delivery of kwama eggs."

"No," Rispy says flatly.

"Hello, Mistress Therana," I say, grinning wildly. "We're a group of young Telvanni who would dearly love to show you some magic we've learned."

"Oh, that's nice," Therana says. "Did I ever tell you that when I was a child, I used to practice Destruction Magic with a weak spell that would heat the ground and make tiny spiders dance? I'm sure if spiders could talk they would have been screaming in terror at the ground suddenly being very hot under their feet. Do spiders have feet? Whatever passes for feet on a spider, at least. No, I wouldn't have wanted to try that sort of thing on a larger spider. I was just a little girl at the time, after all."

I stare at her as she continues to ramble on, then glance sideways to my friends. Rispy uses her distraction to take a position behind her and draw his bow. I conjure my Bound Armory, and bombard her with lightning. She quickly shuts up once she realizes she's under attack, and raises her hands to cast magic to defend herself. In an instant, a shimmering globe of purple shielding surrounds her. In the center, Gellert attacks with his Bound Battleaxe. On the right, Luna assists us with shields and healing.

It still takes us three attempts, but not a moment of that feels frustrating or infuriating. I'm just laughing madly and enjoying the fight. She's good, yes. But not good enough. Not good enough for the four of us, at least. I wouldn't have been able to do this myself. Not anytime soon, and certainly not without spending years building up my strength. But the four of us work together like a well-oiled machine, each of us shoring up the others' weaknesses.

After a long, exhausting fight, Therana apparently runs out of magicka and pulls out a dagger and starts trying to stab me. She doesn't last much longer after that. With her shield down and her attention on me, Rispy puts an arrow in the back of her head.

"Fuck yes," I say, throwing back my head and laughing, then quickly put off a Magic Nap so that she stays dead.

Rispy comes up and kicks the corpse. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer lunatic."

Gellert wastes no time in starting to loot the place. Including Therana's clothes.

"Is it _really_ necessary to strip her?" I wonder.

"No, probably not, but these are some nice clothes and probably expensive," Gellert says. "Also, she was keeping a naked Khajiit in here. She doesn't really deserve any dignity."

"Point taken," I say. "What happened to the Khajiit?"

"I don't see him," Gellert says. "Hope he made it out okay."

"We'd best check around and make sure there aren't still any slaves being kept here," Rispy says.

"And loot the rest of the tower," Gellert adds.

As we're working to loot the tower of valuables and check for slaves, I spot a group outside just standing around. With a raised eyebrow, I gesture to my friends, and we head outside to approach them.

"Outlanders?" says a Dunmer woman in a fancy blue robe, who might be in charge of this group. "And Telvanni, no less."

"That's us, yes," I say. "Who might you be?"

"Trerayna Dalen," she replies. "Let me give you some advice. Stay out of my business here. This matter is between me and Therana."

Behind me, Gellert snickers.

"What matter?" I wonder.

"It doesn't concern you," Trerayna says. "I don't need your help."

"Well, let me give _you_ some friendly advice, then," I say. "Lest you stand around out here all day waiting on a corpse. Therana is dead."

"I wonder if Therana has noticed it yet herself?" Luna muses.

"Don't tell me _you_ killed Therana," Trerayna says.

"The four of us, yes," I say, grinning. "It was a great fight, let me tell you. Pity you didn't get here first."

"I don't believe this," Trerayna says.

Luna cocks her head at Trerayna. "You weren't really here to fight her, were you."

"What makes you think that?" Trerayna asks.

"There is no way the six of you stood any chance against her," Luna says.

"W—What?" Trerayna stammers. "We are not weak!"

"And this is why you've been loitering out here for a week instead of storming the tower?" Gellert says.

I laugh aloud. "You know, if you don't believe us, that's your prerogative. You can stand around out here for another week if you like. I don't care. Come on, let's go."

By the time we make our way to Sadrith Mora, we're in high spirits and have already had a couple drinks. We go into the council hall and pass out drinks to the Mouths.

"Felisa," I say to Therana's Mouth. "I regret to inform you that you will need a new job."

"Ding, dong, the bitch is dead," Gellert sings. "Which old bitch? The crazy bitch!"

I laugh aloud and raise another drink. Around the room, there's applause from the other Mouths, and jingling pouches exchange hands.

"I'd honestly thought you were overreaching yourself," says Gothren's Mouth. "You're stronger than I gave you credit for, then."

"We're awesome," I say, downing a mazte.

"Well, that should make my life less stressful, at least," Felisa says. "And I won't turn down a drink."

"A tip, too," Gellert says, tossing her one of the gems he'd picked up off of Therana's floor.

"Hmm, maybe I can finally open that tailor shop I've been wanting to," Felisa muses.

* * *

_A tall figure wearing a golden mask reaches down to me and touches my face. "Rest easy, my friend, for I have delivered you from the hands of your enemies."_

_Candles flicker around me and I sit up and take a deep breath. I feel like I must have died again, but how did I wind up here?_

I wake. It was another dream. I sit up, putting a hand to my forehead.

"Good morning," Tom says. "Not waking up screaming today? No nightmares?"

I snort softly. "No, I dreamed alright, just not sure how much of a nightmare I'd call it. I saw the masked man again, but he told me he'd… saved me?"

"Do you believe him?" Tom asks.

"I don't know what to believe, anymore," I say. "But for the sake of my continued sanity, I think I should."

"I agree," Tom says. "I won't stand by and watch your mind degrade again. One way or another, I will prevent that, by any means necessary."

"Well, we can't just leave this world," I say. "And I don't think simply going far enough away would help, either."

"It may," Tom says. "And he would likely be unable to reach you in Oblivion."

"Ultimately, I need to either join him or destroy him," I say. "Those will be the only ways to stop this."

"Potions to either put you into a dreamless sleep," Tom says. "Spells or potions to reduce your fatigue so that you do not have to sleep. Occlumency and meditation exercises to protect your mind."

"Those are stopgap measures that will only delay what needs to be done," I say.

"And until it can be permanently dealt with, those stopgap measures must be taken," Tom says. "You fervently kept journals until you could be certain that you no longer forgot things, but that didn't mean you'd given up on the thought of retaining your memory."

"I _still_ keep journals," I say. "Because I'm _paranoid_. Besides, I wasn't having memory problems until _you_ decided to tamper."

"Ugh, I shouldn't have brought it up," Tom mutters.

I shake my head. "I don't see much point in blaming you for it at this juncture. But I'm not going to let _that_ happen again, either."

"I'm not going to erase your memory again," Tom says.

"No, I mean… I'm not going to let my mind get to the state where I can't handle what's going on around me," I say. "I'm stronger than that. And comparatively, these dreams really aren't that bad."

"Yet," Tom says. "Lexen, you're not going to sleep anymore."

"It's not a problem," I insist.

"Your little Magic Nap spell is as effective as an actual nap, anyway, I think," Tom says. "There is no need for us to waste time actually sleeping even if we _weren't_ having strange and disturbing dreams every night. There's too much else to be spending our time on."

"I suppose there's a point to that," I say. "Alright. I'll stop sleeping."

"Good," Tom says.

"I'm going to go talk to Caius," I say.

I take Rispy and teleport over to Balmora. I wonder if Caius has been having dreams, too. I wonder if Caius has been sleeping. I wonder if _anyone_ has been sleeping.

"Lexen," Caius says as we enter. "And Rispy, of course."

Rispy inclines his head. "Caius."

"I've been thinking about the information you and your friends have collected," Caius says. "I think we need an Ashlander perspective here at this point."

"Agreed," I say. "Do you know of any who might be willing to talk to outlanders?"

"Some Ashlanders leave their tribes to live in cities or work as traders," Caius says. "There's one who lives in Ald'ruhn by the name of Hassour Zainsubani." He hands me a pouch. "Here's some money. Find out what he likes and buy him a gift, then see what he can tell you about the Nerevarine cult."

I nod and take the money. "I'll get right on that."

* * *

I return to Hlormaren to pick up Gellert and Luna and grab some supplies, and we head for Ald'ruhn.

"Who are we looking for?" Gellert wonders.

"Hassour Zainsubani," I reply.

"Zain… su…" Gellert murmurs. "Do you think he'll mind if I call him Mr. Z?"

"Maybe you should let me do the talking," I say with a smirk.

We find Hassour in one of the inns and approach him. "Good day," I say. "Are you Hassour Zainsubani?"

"That would be me, yes," Hassour says. "Do you have business?"

"I'm sorry if we're interrupting or intruding," I say. "We wanted to ask you a few questions, if that's alright."

"And I brought brandy," Gellert says, depositing a bottle of imported Cyrodiilic brandy beside the Ashlander.

"Ah, thank you for the gift," Hassour says. "I do enjoy imported brandy. I don't travel so much, anymore, though. I've ranged far and wide and can tell you about many places, or about my trade, or my people. You must know at least something about the Ashlanders if you knew to bring me a gift, though."

"Not really," I say. "We were hoping to visit an Ashlander camp in the near future and were hoping to learn how to gain their favor and avoid giving offense."

"Understandable," Hassour says. "My people have strict customs of courtesy and gift-giving traditions."

"Why did you leave them?" Luna wonders.

"I sought adventure and fortune, of course," Hassour says. "But now I'm happy with fortune. I'm too old to travel any longer, but my son Hannat is an adventurous sort. He assists me in the trade, finding new sources of wealth, delving into long-forgotten places. I worry about him, though. He spends a lot of time away, and I haven't heard from him in a while. Last I knew, he wanted to chart an ancient, rarely visited underground complex at Mamaea."

I share a concerned look with my friends.

"You're adventurers, yourselves, are you not?" Hassour says. "If you ever run across him in your travels, tell him an old man longs for news of his son."

"We're going," I say fervently.

"Pardon?" Hassour says.

"We're going to go find your son," I say. "Forget the questions. They can wait. Strange things have been happening lately and I fear your son may be in grave danger. How can we get to Mamaea?"

Hassour frowns, and gives me directions. "It's a courteous thing you do, to offer aid to an old man. I hope for my son's sake that your fears are unfounded, though."

* * *

We waste no time in getting out of town and looking for the cave in question. It takes a good bit of searching, but we eventually run across it and head inside. It doesn't take long for my heart to sink in dread, as a figure with a missing face runs out at us and tries to claw at us.

"These things again," Gellert mutters, incinerating it.

"Ash creatures," I say. "Fuck. I hope Hannat is alright in here."

"I don't have much hope," Gellert says.

"I'm nothing _but_ hope," I say.

Down the next tunnel, a warped creature with a trunk like an elephant starts casting spells at us, and takes us out.

* * *

I wake in Hlormaren.

"What happened?" Tom asks. "Did you forget to take a Magic Nap?"

"Think so, yeah," I say. "Call in everyone. We're raiding a Sixth House base. A young Ashlander is in danger."

"And more importantly," Gellert interjects, "we need information from his father."

I snort softly. "That really wasn't my only consideration."

I'm not taking any chances this time. I bring all the firepower I have to bear. This isn't just a senile old mage, no matter how powerful she was. These are blighted creatures that can be dangerous to us in more than just death. At least I know where we're going this time.

Sirius pulls out a map and pinpoints where all living beings in the vicinity are. Kirlin casts protective spells over us. We head in, systematically mapping out each tunnel and destroying anything that attacks us. Many of the beings attacking us still look like ordinary Dunmer, but seem totally incoherent and are wearing absolutely nothing.

"Why in Oblivion did they all strip naked and grab shitty clubs?" I wonder, gaping at the stupidity of it all.

"I guess it's just one of _those_ sorts of caves," Gellert says.

"How will we know which one is Hannat?" Kirlin wonders. "We could be killing him and we wouldn't even know!"

"Don't worry," Sirius says, holding up the map and grinning. "Guess what I got working?"

"You really got names to show up?" I ask.

"I did indeed," Sirius says.

"So what are their names?" Kirlin wonders.

Sirius pauses and looks closer. "'Dreamer', mostly."

"Ugh," Kirlin says.

"The enchantment can only go off of their self-identity…" Sirius says.

"So we could _still_ be killing him and not know it," Kirlin says.

"He might not even be in here," Remus says.

"Or he might already be dead, or worse," Tom adds.

In one cavern stands an ash creature more well-dressed than the others. That is to say, he's wearing a very fancy belt and loincloth and isn't completely naked, plus he's got a shiny golden headdress on. That probably means he's important. My friends still seem to be busy sweeping through the cave and looking for Hannat, so it seems I'm facing him alone for the moment but for Rispy at my back as always. I'm sure I can get backup if necessary, but right now I just want to try talking.

"Who are you?" I wonder, raising my Bound Sword but not attacking just yet.

"I am Dagoth Araynys. I don't think we have anything to talk about, do we?"

" _What_ are you?" I ask.

Araynys rolls his eyes. All three of them. "I am a Heartwight. An ash vampire, as the ignorant might call us, but no true vampire. Shall we get on with this?"

"That eager to fight?" I ask.

"You were the one who came here," Araynys says. "So I'm going to kill you. I don't imagine you believe that, or you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, no, not at all," I say. "I believe there's quite a good chance you can kill me."

Araynys tilts his head. "If you're going to fight regardless, then as the challenger, the first move is yours, as is the custom of House Dagoth."

"What, you'd just let me walk away?" I ask.

"Yes," Araynys says. "I know who you are, Nerevar. Brother Dagoth would prefer you to join him than to fight you, but if you wish to challenge me, that's your business. As a Heartwight, I cannot die, but you have no such advantage. You stand to lose everything if you fight me, because I will not show you any mercy."

So, Dagoth Ur apparently has no idea that I'm immortal in my own right. I don't doubt the accuracy of Araynys' statement, though.

"How in Oblivion do you mean you can't die?" I wonder.

"The power of the Heart will bring us back," Araynys says. "If you should choose join us, you, too, can share in this power."

I stare at him for a long moment. I would dearly like to interrogate him on all this, but I doubt I'm going to get a chance to do so at this juncture.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Gellert coming up beside me. "I'm going to assume that the fact that you're just standing here not attacking either means you're having a nice chat or you're being mind controlled."

"Pretty sure I'm not being mind controlled," I say with a smirk.

"If you still want to fight, I could just kill both of you," Araynys says.

"I didn't want to fight in the first place," I say. "But do you terribly mind if we slaughter everything in here too stupid not to attack us, rescue a young man, and loot the place?"

"By all means," Araynys says with a shrug. "They're irrelevant."

"What have I missed?" Gellert asks.

"Oh, Dagoth Araynys here is just offering me power and immortality for turning to the Dark Side."

"Is he throwing in nice loincloths, too?" Gellert asks. "Because I'd go to the Dark Side for one of those snazzy belts."

Araynys puts his face in his palm and sighs.

"Come on, let's not drive the poor Heartwight mad," I say, taking Gellert's arm and pulling him away.

"Aw, and he hasn't even met Luna yet!" Gellert says.

Fortunately, further inside the caverns, we find a half-naked Dunmer man inside a cell who seems more lucid than the others, if only because he's the only one in the whole place who is wearing trousers. "Please, get me out of here. They dragged me away and stripped me and locked me up in here, and I keep having the strangest dreams and I don't trust what I'm seeing any longer. I just hope that _you_ at least are real and can help me."

"We're real. What's your name?" I ask unnecessarily.

"Hannat Zainsubani. My father is a trader in Ald'ruhn. If you can get me out of here, I'm sure he'll reward you."

"You must be weak, tired, and hungry," I say. "I don't know how up to the walk from here to Ald'ruhn you are. I can just teleport you straight there."

"Can you?" Hannat says. "I would be most grateful."

"You head along," Tom says. "We'll stay here a bit longer and finish clearing this place out and meet up with you later."

"I'll go, too," Kirlin says. "He may need healing."

I put an arm around Hannat and cast Almsivi Intervention.

* * *

Hannat and I appear in front of the temple in Ald'ruhn. I hadn't underestimated how weak he was. He almost collapses in my arm as soon as we arrive.

"My father should be at the Ald Skar Inn," Hannat says. "I think I can make it there."

"Like Oblivion you can," I mutter.

"Let's get you into the temple," Kirlin says.

"No, just get me to my father," Hannat says. "Please."

I exchange a look with Kirlin. "Alright."

I'm not strong enough to carry him, not by far. But between Kirlin and I, and what's left of Hannat's own strength, we manage.

As we pass the bar area, I say, "Can we get some food and drink downstairs, please?"

Hannat almost falls down the stairs, but we manage to hold him steady.

Once Hassour sees who is coming, he gets up and rushes over to put his arms around Hannat. "Oh, my boy, what happened to you?"

"Come on, let's get you into a seat or something," I say, helping him over to the closest chair.

"Thank you," Hannat murmurs, then gives a weak smile to his father. "I was… captured. I probably would have…" He trails off, shaking his head and not finishing that sentence. "But these people saved me."

A Dunmer woman comes down and gives him a bottle and a bowl of food, then goes back upstairs again.

Hassour turns to us. "Words cannot express my gratitude, strangers. Please, take these as a reward." He offers me several very heavy pieces of raw ebony, a sword, and a ring. "Ebony, rare and valuable. My personal blade, and the ring off my finger."

"I didn't do this for a reward," I say. I put the ebony in my pack, but wave off the sword and ring. "Keep them, please. I cannot take them."

Kirlin looks at me almost in shock that I'm turning down valuables. Normally I wouldn't, no matter how little I needed them, but it's a calculated move on my part to make sure that he's still in my debt and willing to give me all the information I can get out of him. Not that I think he wouldn't, considering I just got his son back for him.

"If there's anything else I might be able to do for you, you have but to ask," Hassour says. "How can one put a value on a life?"

"First I just want to make sure Hannat will be alright," I say. "Ah, but where are my manners. Some introductions are in order, I suppose. I'm Lexen Skywalker, and this is Kirlin Surana."

"Hassour Zainsubani. You may have figured that out already, though. My son must have mentioned me so that you could bring him here. How did you ever find him?"

"We were investigating rumor of strange happenings at Mamaea," I explain. "What we found there was a Sixth House cultist base. When I realized what we were facing there, I went and brought in backup. The rest of my team stayed behind to finish clearing out the base, but Kirlin and I decided to get Hannat to safety as quickly as possible. One moment."

I cast a quick Magic Nap on myself, then Kirlin casts a spell on Hannat to refresh him and reduce his fatigue.

I lean close and whisper, "Don't fall asleep."

Hannat nods fervently in agreement, and rasps, "I didn't want to go into the temple. They might think my dreams were a sign of soul sickness."

"Dreams?" Hassour repeats.

"While I was being held prisoner, I started having the most horrible dreams," Hannat says quietly. "There were creatures I cannot describe… and a man in a golden mask."

"I've been dreaming of him, too," I murmur.

"What does it mean?" Hannat wonders.

"I would hope that it means nothing, but if both of you are dreaming of the same thing…" Hassour looks to me. "My people take dreams seriously and put great store in them, but only a wise woman can unravel their meanings."

"Do you think I should go speak to one?" I ask. "These dreams have been happening ever since I arrived in Morrowind, and some of my friends have started having them as well."

"I think you must, if you are to find any answers," Hassour says. "If we are to find any answers of what was done to my son and why."

"Tell me how I might find them, then," I say. "And how I might gain their favor and avoid offending them."

"You can probably find the Urshilaku tribe north of here, along the Sea of Ghosts," Hassour says. "We Ashlanders have gift-giving customs. Bring gifts, or at least money for bribes. Be courteous, and leave if requested. They may challenge someone who enters a yurt without permission. They would consider it shameful to attack an unarmed person, though. Here, I'll write some things down for you."

"Thank you," I say.

I consider asking him about the Nerevarine, but decide to hold my tongue. Caius' orders are seeming increasingly irrelevant, and the wise women are probably a better source regardless. I have more than enough of interest to report back to him at the moment. Which leaves me wondering just what to tell _him_ , too.

Kirlin opts to stay behind for a while to make sure Hannat is alright. I Recall back to Hlormaren.

My other friends have returned by this point. Gellert is wearing a bizarre helmet he must have found in there, pitch black with three red plumes. It's probably meant to look intimidating, but the way he's posing, it just winds up looking ridiculous.

"Right, since you guys seem to have made it out alright, I'll just go report to Caius," I say with a smirk.

Rispy comes along with me, and the two of us head over to Caius' house.

"Learn anything of note about the Nerevarine cult?" Caius asks.

"I didn't ask," I say. "Something else came up."

"Oh?"

"Hassour's son had been kidnapped by Sixth House cultists," I explain. "And… ugh, I need a drink."

Rispy wordlessly hands me a bottle of sujamma that I have no idea where he was keeping. I sit down and take a generous gulp of it.

"I don't envy you having to deal with that shit," Caius says. "I think it's about time that I let you in on what this is all about, especially with the sort of situations you're getting yourself into here."

"I'm dying to know," I drawl.

"You were sent to Morrowind because the Emperor believes that you have the appearance of satisfying the Nerevarine prophecies," Caius says.

I don't even pause in my drinking.

"You're an orphan, born on the last day of Sun's Dusk, under the sign of the Serpent," Caius goes on.

Well, at least someone around here knows what my actual birthday was, apparently.

"Now, originally I thought we were just going to set you up to imitate the Nerevarine in order to gain some sort of advantage in Morrowind, but the Emperor seemed to believe you were genuine, and now I'm starting to wonder myself whether you really are the Nerevarine."

"I am," I say, downing another mouthful of sujamma.

"You're sure of that?" Caius asks.

"I already suspected," I say. "And then an ash vampire addressed me as Nerevar. So Dagoth Ur certainly fucking thinks I am."

"I can see why you're drinking so heavily then," Caius says.

"I keep having dreams and I'm going insane," I say. "Tom made me stop sleeping. So I'm not going to sleep anymore."

"Hold it together, Lexen," Caius says.

I shake my head. "I'll be fine. I've been through worse."

"I'm not even going to ask what could possibly have been worse than having nightmares about a powerful dark entity," Caius says.

"Hassour suggested that I go to the Urshilaku Ashlander camp and ask their wise woman about these dreams," I say.

Caius nods. "Good idea. And maybe she will be willing to tell you more about the Nerevarine prophecies, as well."

"Have I ever told you that I hate prophecies?" I ask. "Because I hate prophecies. Because I hate the thought that people must act according to some divine destiny. Because I hate the fact that to believe in a prophecy denies free will."

"You don't need to believe in them," Caius says. "Maybe it's for the best that you don't, really. The important thing is that Morrowind is in trouble, and you are in a position where you can do something about that."

"Yeah," I say. "Prophecy or no, I know what needs to be done, one way or another."

"Go visit the Urshilaku and see how you can get their support," Caius says.

"I'll set out in the morning," I say. "I told Hassour I'd visit them for him. Right now I'm going to get blind drunk." I look into my empty bottle. "And I'm out of sujamma. This looks like a good time to make a dire emergency run to the South Wall."


	16. Prophecies

_A tall figure in a golden mask appears before me. "Indoril Nerevar, Lord of Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the outlanders from Morrowind!"_

I wake in Hlormaren.

"You fell asleep," Tom says flatly.

"Did I?" I murmur groggily.

"I told you not to fall asleep," Tom says. "You passed out drinking."

"Ugh." I put my face in my palm. "You know what the worst of this all is?"

"That you're having nightmares and going insane?" Tom says.

"That this whole situation may well be may own fault," I say.

Tom snorts softly. "Why in Oblivion would you think that?"

"I betrayed him," I say softly.

"Who?"

"Voryn," I say.

"… Who?"

"Voryn Dagoth," I say. "Dagoth Ur. He was my friend. And I betrayed him."

"You believe him?" Tom asks.

"I know it's true," I say.

"And he has absolutely no reason to lie to you, I'm sure," Tom says.

"It didn't feel like a lie," I say.

"Would you betray a friend without good reason?" Tom asks.

I look at the floor silently.

"Either he was never really your friend, or you had extenuating circumstances that you believed good enough reason to betray him," Tom says. "Or he's lying."

"I'm going to assume the second one," I say. "Or that he believed I'd betrayed him under circumstances that weren't really my fault, or that _he_ was lied to."

"You don't have enough information and you know it," Tom says.

"And people say I made a promise to the Ashlanders," I say. "And I don't give promises lightly, so I mean to keep that even if I don't remember giving it. Because I know the me of that time would have wanted that."

"They might be lying about that, too," Tom says. "Or misinterpreting or misremembering things. None of them were around then."

"Divayth was, though," I say. "Has he ever mentioned anything about it?"

"We don't generally talk about ancient history," Tom says. "Although he did mention a few interesting anecdotes from his childhood on unrelated subjects. We have not spoken about you at all, in either incarnation. I would imagine that you are still trying to keep who you are as quiet as possible, are you not?"

"Yeah, true," I say. "Caius knows, though."

I relay the conversation that I had with Caius before I got too drunk to remember anything last night.

"Interesting," Tom says. "From the sounds of things, I would dearly like the opportunity to speak at length with the Emperor. Alas, I doubt I will get the sort of opening as I did with Divayth. No matter. Perhaps one of these lifetimes the chance will arise."

"Well, I'm going to head out to meet the Ashlanders today," I say. "And avoid sleeping."

"Try avoiding getting so drunk you pass out, too," Tom says.

* * *

As I'm not sure precisely where to locate Urshilaku camp beyond Hassour's vague directions, I just head through the propylon network to Valenvaryon stronghold along with Gellert, Rispy, and Luna. That's the one closest to the general area we're supposed to look in, along the north coast of Vvardenfell.

We step out into an ash storm. Blinding, howling wind whips around us.

I close my eyes and cover my face with an arm. "Maybe we should come back later," I call against the wind.

"That assumes it's not like this all the time," Gellert says, covering his face with part of his cloak.

"I'm sure the Ashlanders must be used to this," Luna says.

I glance over to her, and see that she's not even covering her face in any way, but doesn't seem to be having any problems. "Luna… are you using a Bubble-Head Charm?"

"Yep!" Luna says brightly. "I figured researching an equivalent that worked with local magic would be a very good idea after the last ash storm we got caught in."

"Well, can you cast it on us, too?" I ask.

"I haven't quite learned how to cast it on other people yet," Luna says.

"Now is the perfect opportunity to get that down," Gellert drawls.

We head off into the ashen wastes, with Luna trying to adjust the spell as we go. Rispy looks positively miserable, but doesn't utter a word of complaint. His fur is going to wind up positively matted with ash by the time we find what we're looking for.

The wind finally stops blowing and the skies begin to clear up, and directly ahead of us sits a camp that we must have overlooked more than once as being nothing more than a cluster of rocks. A cluster of yurts sit roughly in a circle, one group of them with an awning stretching between them to allow better coverage of the entrances. I cast a quick Magic Nap, and we approach.

"So, Lexen, you eager to start fulfilling prophecies here?" Gellert says lightly.

I groan. "I would rather not have anything to do with any prophecies, but I'm still the Nerevarine anyway."

A Dunmer woman looks sharply over toward me. Apparently I was speaking too loudly. Or those pointed ears aren't just for show.

"What does an outlander know of the Nerevarine prophecies?" the Ashlander wonders.

"Less than I should and more than I would like," I reply. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude. I've come here because I believe I am the Nerevarine."

"You, outlander?" the Ashlander asks incredulously.

"The way I see it, though, these prophecies aren't for _me_ ," I go on. "If they're true, then I'm going to wind up doing whatever it says in them regardless. And that maybe it's best that I _don't_ know them. Have you ever heard the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy? When people know what a prophecy is about, then they go out of their way to try to fulfill it. And then if they come up against something that _they_ clearly weren't meant for… they fail."

The Ashlander looks at me oddly. "You do not look like the Nerevarine. But you do not sound like a fool or a madman."

"You clearly haven't been listening to him long enough," Gellert says with a wild grin.

"The soul cares little for race or appearance when it decides to be born," Luna says. "Maybe I could have been a Dunmer in another life, too." She pulls out a handful of flowers from her pack. "Here, I brought something for you."

"Oh, that's kind of you," the Ashlander says, accepting them. "Look, I don't know what to think of all this. You should go speak to Zabamund, in that yurt over there." She points. "He's a gulakhan, champion of our Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul. He can decide whether to allow you to speak with our chief."

"Thank you," I say, inclining my head toward her. I head over to the indicated tent and poke my head inside. "Excuse me. The woman out here suggested that we speak with you. May we come in?"

"Go ahead," the Ashlander man inside, presumably Zabamund, says.

Gellert says quietly to me, "I'm going to go kill some cliff racers. Don't think you need me mucking up your polite conversation here."

"This one will keep watch outside," Rispy says.

Luna and I go into the tent, and Zabamund gestures to us to take a seat. We sit down on cushions on the ground.

"I'm Zabamund, gulakhan of the Urshilaku. Who might you be, outlanders?"

"I'm Lexen Skywalker, and this is my friend, Luna," I say.

Zabamund nods. "Why are you here?"

"An excellent question," I mumble.

"We need to speak with your wise woman," Luna says. "My friends and I have been plagued by terrible dreams."

"A trader by the name of Hassour Zainsubani directed us here to find out any answers we could," I say. "He could not travel. He wanted to stay by his son's side, who was in bad shape after we rescued him from a cave full of ash creatures. His son had been tormented by terrible dreams while he was there, and we've been having similar dreams as well."

"And then there were the Nerevarine prophecies…" Luna says.

I sigh and put my face in my hand. "I'd really rather not have to talk about prophecies, but it seems that I must."

"The Nerevarine prophecies are not for outlanders," Zabamund says.

"I dream of a man in a golden mask," I say. "He calls me Indoril Nerevar. An ash vampire addressed me as Nerevar. Dagoth Ur certainly seems convinced that I'm the Nerevarine. Which, unfortunately, makes it my business whether I like it or not."

"We have been dealing with many of those who dream in ashes," Luna says quietly. "And many of those who bear the curse of flesh. The Sharmat stirs within Red Mountain, and the Sleepers awake. They gather in the old places and bring their dreams and blight." She stares off into nothing.

I reach over and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

Zabamund stares at her for a long moment. "Very well. This is not a simple matter. You should speak with Sul-Matuul about it. Go, and tell him that I sent you."

I nod. "Thank you." I squeeze Luna gently. "Are you alright, Luna?"

Luna nods slightly. "Help me up."

I help Luna to her feet, bow my head toward Zabamund, then head out of the yurt and make my way over to the Ashkhan's yurt. For all that they aren't exactly mansions inside, I think I kind of like these yurts.

"Excuse me," I say at the entrance. "May we come inside? Zabamund sent us."

"Outlanders?" says the man, Sul-Matuul I'm guessing. "If Zabamund sent you to me, he must have had good reason. Come on in."

We head inside, and I let Luna down onto one of the cushions. She didn't say if she's alright or not, but she certainly seems dizzy at least. She puts a hand on the ground to steady herself, and rests her forehead on her other. I introduce us, and explain again about the dreams, and mention Hassour and Hannat, and how we hoped the wise woman might have answers.

Luna interrupts, "Tell him you're the Nerevarine."

"Luna…" I say softly.

"They need to know," Luna says. "Don't leave this to the Sharmat."

I seem to recall that Sharmat was a title given to Dagoth Ur in the Lessons of Vivec. I'm not quite sure what it means.

"What is this?" Sul-Matuul says. "You, an outlander, believe that you are the Nerevarine?"

"I assure you, belief has nothing to do with it," I say. "Either I am, or I am not. What I believe is irrelevant." I sigh and rub my forehead.

"The Sharmat believes you are," Luna says. "We dream the dreams of ash as the unmourned tribe wakes. Azura's hand guided us here."

"No outlander can join the Nerevarine cult," Sul-Matuul says.

"I'm not really interested in joining your cult," I say. "No offense intended. And I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of people, I don't know, worshipping me? Whoever I might have been in another life, I'm still just a man."

"Your humility does you credit," Sul-Matuul says. "I might adopt you as a Clanfriend of the Ashlander tribes, if you complete an initiation rite."

"If that is what I must do in order to speak with your wise woman about our dreams, then so be it," I say. "If there is no consideration that Hassour sent me regarding his son's dreams as well." I shrug. "What sort of initiation rite do you have in mind?"

"That Hassour sent you changes nothing," Sul-Matuul says. "You must be judged by the ancestors to test if you are worthy. Go to our burial caverns and fetch me my father's bow. His spirit guards it deep within the burial caverns."

"Okay, so you want me to go talk to some ghosts," I say. "I can do that."

"You may fight them if you cannot pacify them any other way," Sul-Matuul says. "They will attack and kill you if they can."

"I really don't see how beating up the ghost of your father would prove anything beyond that I can fight ghosts," I say. "Isn't it a greater achievement to attain something without hurting anyone in the process? Even if they're already dead?"

"Are you willing to do the rite or not?" Sul-Matuul says impatiently.

"I'll do it," I say. "I'm just making clear what is expected of me. And do I have to do this alone?"

Sul-Matuul glances aside to Luna. "You may take your wise woman into the caverns. No one else. Anyone else with you must wait outside."

"My wise—" I stop. "Right. Alright."

After getting directions, we head outside and collect Rispy and Gellert, and make our way into the Ashlands again. I fill them in on what transpired inside the yurts.

"I guess Luna's officially our wise woman now, then," Gellert says with a chuckle. "What does your wisdom suggest we need?"

"Cheese," Luna offers.

"Can't argue with that," Gellert says.

Just as we're getting away from the camp, however, another ash storm whips up and we can't see a blighted thing. We proceed to wander around half-blind in the Ashlands, occasionally getting attacked by diseased wildlife, completely lost. Either Sul-Matuul's directions were terrible, or we completely missed where we were supposed to go in the storms. We eventually duck into a cave to take refuge from the storm and wait for it to pass. The cave faintly glows green, and statues of Dunmer holding spears line the way down into it.

"I guess this was the right place after all," I say. "Okay, Gellert, Rispy, can you stay here and watch the entrance while me and Luna head in?"

They remain there, and Luna and I go in. The burial complex is huge, and we wind up spending way too much time wandering around, having to levitate to get into some places, and fighting skeletons and ghosts. If it weren't for our magic map, we'd be completely lost, and nothing in here seems particularly inclined to listen to reason, and so we fight.

"Have I mentioned yet that this is stupid?" I say.

"Only twice this tunnel," Luna replies. "Don't worry, they're already dead. We're not making them anymore dead, and they'll just get reanimated again anyway."

"Honoring Dunmer traditions, I guess," I say. "No wonder these things are so pissy. I would be too if I had to spend eternity in a cave. Also, I can see why he only wanted the two of us to come in here. Gellert would probably be looting the shit out of this place."

"Oh, he is," Luna says.

I groan. "They came in behind us, didn't they."

Luna nods, and giggles.

"I'm going to pretend that I don't know about this," I say.

We finally find the bow we were supposed to get and retrieve it, then head out and meet up with Gellert and Rispy. I make Gellert go back home to store or sell his ill-gotten loot so that the Ashlanders don't see him parading through their camp with it. Luna and I return to the camp, with Rispy trailing along behind us keeping an eye out for cliff racers. At least the wind has stopped blowing for the moment.

Sul-Matuul takes the bow and names us Clanfriends and bids us to go see the wise woman, Nibani Maesa. But before we go, he says, "I'll admit that I find it hard to believe that you could be the Nerevarine. You're an outlander, and the Nerevarine is supposed to drive the outlanders from Morrowind."

"Just because I'm an outlander doesn't mean I have to like outlanders or what they've done here," I say.

"Perhaps," Sul-Matuul says. "The Nerevarine is our last hope. I won't let that hope be stolen from us."

I chuckle ruefully. "I may as well be hope incarnate, I suppose."

"Take care what you say and do in the name of the Nerevarine," Sul-Matuul says. "This is a serious matter, one that could mean life and death for all of us. Go to Nibani Maesa. I will let her be the judge of this. Learn what you can from her."

I nod. "Thank you."

Luna and I head over and into the wise woman's yurt. An old, white haired Dunmer woman sits inside and looks up at us as we enter.

"I am Nibani Maesa, Wise Woman of the Urshilaku tribe. Come. Sit. The others told me about you. Clanfriends. Lexen and Luna. Speak. Ask your questions."

"We've been having dreams," I begin. "A man in a golden mask speaks to us in our sleep." I bite my lip. "He speaks to me as friend, and calls me Indoril Nerevar. He makes promises and shows me strange images."

"You must resist," Nibani says. "These are the words of the Sharmat, Dagoth Ur. He will trick you and bend you to his will if you do not hold strong against him. Do not listen to his voice, or he will drive you mad."

"We must speak with you about the Nerevarine prophecies," Luna says.

I sigh and put my face in both palms. "I mean no offense, but I do not wish to hear anything about any prophecies. I will fulfill them, or I will not. Knowing about them will not change that."

"If you believe you are the Nerevarine, then I must test you against the prophecies," Nibani says.

"You want to know whether they _do_ identify me accurately?" I ask. "Fine. I was born on the last day of Sun's Dusk, under the sign of the Serpent. I have no parents."

"Many have the same birthday, and many are unsure of their parents," Nibani says. "It is one part, but it is not the whole."

"Born of the blood of the dragon, born of a distant star," Luna says dreamily.

"Right, that," I grumble. "If there's nothing in there about dragons and stars, I'm not going to believe that these prophecies are really accurate. And storms. Does it mention the title 'Stormseeker' anywhere? _That_ is what is supposed to identify me in prophecies."

"I am uncertain as to which prophecies you are referring to," Nibani says. "Have you heard of ones that have been lost?"

I let out a heavy breath. "It's a long story. A long, long, _long_ story."

"You can summarize, Stormseeker," Luna says lightly.

"This is not an easy story, summarized or not," I say.

"Tell it," Nibani says.

I rub my forehead. "I'll try." I sit back and put my arms on my knees. "I spent many ages in other worlds. Many lives, traveling, learning, forgetting myself and doing it all over again. I died, again and again and again, and each time I died I forgot."

If Nibani thinks there is anything strange of my story, she doesn't say it, not yet at least. She just watches me and listens passively. This is more than I've told anyone in this world, and maybe my friends will be unhappy about it, but if there's anyone to tell, it's this wise woman. I feel like this is right.

"There was… I don't know what you'd call him. He was very powerful, a god or something that might as well be one. We called him Sardill, in that time and place. It was one of many names he had gone by throughout the ages, and I don't know what they all were. He killed me. He had his followers kill me. He kept telling me, 'Try again, Stormseeker.' Whenever I asked him _why_ he was doing this, he told me that I was not in a position to understand his purpose. He drove me off into another world, but he cursed me with ill fortune and suffering. Again and again I died, no matter where I went or what I did, and I went to many other worlds. I failed many times, but I never gave up, and despite it all I kept fighting. It slowly drove me mad, and I watched too many of my friends die while I lived on.

"And then I forgot. I had to forget, or I would have torn myself apart. My mind was not strong enough, not yet, not to handle everything I'd gone through. So I lived many more lives, and forgot. Again and again and again. And yet, in the end, something changed. I found a balance and came to terms with it all and attained peace with myself. And then when I woke again in the place where I came from, Sardill was there. And he finally told me what all of what I went through was for. A great doom lay upon the universe, but he needed me stronger. So he put me through fire to forge me into the tool that was needed to save us all.

"This doom had come about due to the foolish actions of the Trickster, the Madgod. We called him Shazmar. I believe he's called Sheogorath in this world. He very nearly destroyed us all by allowing the wrong person to gain divine powers. This rent time and space, and somehow, I was the only one who could _fix_ this. So I broke the universe to save it. And then, I finally had to deal with this false god once and for all. With the help of Azura, I performed a ritual that erased him from time. But the price of her aid was that I would come back here, to Nirn, where she says I lived once before, and she'd promised that I would return one day to save them."

Nibani stares at me for a long moment. "That is quite the tale. I don't know what to think of all this. This one you mention, the one you call Sardill, this sounds like an aspect of Boethiah."

"I agree," Luna says.

"As you say," I say, and sigh. "It has been a long, long journey."

"I know nothing of other worlds," Nibani says. "But your tale has a ring of truth to it, and you do not seem mad to me. This is not the tale of a madman. If what you say is true, you have been shaped by Boethiah and guided by Azura, and you are immortal."

"Age doesn't change me," I say. "I can, in fact, change my apparent age at will. _This_ I can easily prove."

I concentrate and call upon my innate Time Magic. While casting spells is a little strange in this world, my innate abilities have never stopped working as I expect them to. My skin crawls as I will myself to age, and then shrinks in on me as I rejuvenate myself. My clothes fall loose around me as I stop at the age of five years old, and then tighten as I bring my age back to normal.

Nibani's eyes widen at the demonstration. "That _is_ mentioned in one of the prophecies. 'Neither blight nor age can harm him.'"

"Why am I not surprised," I mumble.

"The prophecies also say that the Nerevarine bears the moon-and-star," Nibani says.

"I am Moonseeker," Luna says. "Starfire also came with us."

"I'm not sure that's what it's supposed to mean, Luna," I say. "It's probably that magic ring I've heard about."

"And the Nerevarine is supposed to unite the Houses and the tribes," Nibani goes on.

"That's more of a prediction than identification," I say. "I'm sorry. Thinking on these things… I need to stretch my legs and get some air."

"I'll stay and talk," Luna says.

"I will recite the prophecies I know to you so that you may write them down if you wish," Nibani says to her.

"Alright, well, I think Luna's better suited to talking about prophecies than I am, regardless." I incline my head toward Nibani and stand. "Thank you for your time."

I head outside. The skies are calm and the sun is starting to set. If nothing else, I feel better for having gotten all that off my chest. Rispy comes up beside me as I walk toward the beach.

"Were you listening?" I ask.

Rispy nods. "I heard."

"What do you think of all this?" I wonder.

"I think you hate prophecies," Rispy comments.

I laugh aloud. "I think you may be right, there. I don't want to know these prophecies. I don't want to know what they think I'll do. Because I might just defy them out of spite."


	17. Break

"What are you going to tell the spymaster?" Luna wonders.

We've returned to Hlormaren and are sitting in the library in lieu of sleeping. I feel like I haven't slept in months, which is ridiculous because I haven't even been here months.

"I went and did what he said," I say with a shrug. "Mission accomplished? Did Nibani have anything interesting to say after I left that _wasn't_ about a prophecy?"

Luna looks off thoughtfully. "Nope."

"Figures," I say. "I don't suppose I can get _you_ to deal with wise women from now on?"

"You'll have to talk to them again eventually," Luna says.

"I don't have to do anything, least of all deal with prophecies," I say.

"I have the notes I wrote down," Luna says. "You can give a copy of them to the spymaster, if you want."

"Guess so," I say.

I courteously wait until the sun actually comes up to go visit Caius with Rispy, but I don't think I need to have bothered. He doesn't seem to have actually slept either.

"Good, you're here, Lexen," Caius says. "I was about go to visit Hlormaren if you didn't show up soon."

"What's going on?" I ask. "I guess you're not interested in looking at these?" I set the papers on the table.

"I'll check it out later," Caius says. "A situation has developed."

"Orders?"

"We've discovered a Sixth House base somewhere on the western coast of Vvardenfell," Caius explains. "Per your report on smugglers, I tipped off Fort Buckmoth, and they were investigating Gnaar Mok for smuggling activity. They found a Sixth House base. You'll have to get the details from Raesa Pullia at Fort Buckmoth, near Ald'ruhn. This is going to be a tough assignment, but given the way you've been clearing out Sixth House strongholds yourself, I think you're up for it, or I wouldn't be asking."

I nod tersely. "I'll get the details and bring in my team."

"I don't think I need to warn you to be careful," Caius says. "But I'll warn you anyway. Here's some money for supplies, as well." He hands over a pouch.

I Recall and head over to the Imperial Legion fort near Ald'ruhn, Rispy at my back as always.

"I'm looking for Raesa Pullia," I ask the first person I see.

"That's me," the Imperial woman says.

"I'm Lexen Skywalker," I say. "I'm here to get your report on the Sixth House base near Gnaar Mok."

"Caius sent you, did he?" Raesa asks. At my nod, she continues. "We sent a team in. Only one of them returned, horribly disfigured with corprus and gibbering like a madman. He died soon after. It was horrible."

I scowl. Much as I'm thinking it, I don't think it would be appropriate at this point to comment that they should have sent me in instead. I can't expect them to leave everything dangerous to the one who is immortal that they don't even know is immortal.

"I think he was allowed to come back to give us a message," Raesa goes on. "But that message is insane. The Sixth House awakes, Dagoth Ur is Lord, all will be one with him in flesh. That sort of thing."

"Where is this base?" I ask.

"He mentioned a cave called Ilunibi," Raesa says. "It's not on our maps. You'll have to get directions from the locals. Gnaar Mok is quite the trip from here." She starts to give me directions, but I hold up my hand to cut her off.

"I have Hlormaren as my main base of operations," I say. "It's just south of Gnaar Mok. I know where it is. I'll just go up the coast from there."

Raesa nods. "I hope you have more backup than one Khajiit, no matter how heavily armed he is."

"I've got a full team of nine," I say. "I'll bring them all in."

"Divines go with you," Raesa says.

* * *

After getting directions from the highly shady locals, my companions and I head into Ilunibi. Or 'Ilubinibebi', as Gellert called it. The cave complex is massive and half-flooded, not to mention full of Dreamers and ash creatures. Again, we're relying heavily on Sirius' map to avoid getting horribly lost in here.

"Ugh, my boots are waterlogged again," Sirius mumbles after his water walking spell wears off suddenly.

"You're getting distracted and not maintaining that spell," Tom says.

"I'm paying more attention to the map," Sirius says. "Not to mention the things trying to kill us."

Eventually, after fighting our way past too many monsters and resetting a couple times, we come to the heart of the complex. Before the shrine stands a robed man, or at least what once might have been a man, one long tentacle in place of where his face should have been.

"Greetings, Lord Nerevar, or Lexen Skywalker, whichever you are calling yourself now. And to your companions as well. I am Dagoth Gares. Welcome to Ilunibi shrine."

"That was quite some welcome, what with trying to kill us and all," Gellert comments.

"I apologize for that," Gares says. "Until you have declared for us, we must treat you as an enemy. But I hope that you will honor my Lord's friendship, not betray it."

"What kind of friendship is this?" Remus demands.

"Lord Dagoth bids you to come to Red Mountain, to pledge your friendship anew," Gares goes on. "He will give you power and aid to set the world aright. We will sweep this land clean of false friends and greedy thieves, and grow a verdant garden in this blighted land."

"We're no friends of the Tribunal, if that's who you mean," I say. "Vivec's lies could fill a scroll that stretches around Nirn."

"Indeed," Gares agrees. "Lord Dagoth bade me to tell you this. Once, you and he were friends and brothers, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck him down as he guarded the treasure you made him swear an oath to defend. But, remembering his old friendship, he would forgive you."

"Are you trying to tempt us with power?" Kirlin asks.

"No," Gares says. "As I'm told Nerevar was once fond of saying… There is no temptation. There is only choice."

A heavy silence fills the cavern.

"Well, shit," I whisper.

"Will you strike me down, or lay down your weapons and join me in friendship?" Gares asks.

I hold up my hand. "I need to discuss this with my friends."

"As you will," Gares says.

I gather my friends off back into a side cave. It's not much for an impromptu conference room, but it'll have to do. "Alright. We need to make a consensus here. This isn't something I can just unilaterally decide on. Let's lay out our thoughts and agree that whatever consensus we come to, we'll abide by without recrimination, regardless of the outcome or our personal feelings. Alright?"

There are nods and murmurs of agreement. We should all know well enough by now that whatever happens here is secondary to our bonds with one another. Especially after my stories of the shit that went down when we forgot that.

"I don't like this," Kirlin says. "And I don't just say that as a member of the Temple, which I'm a little disillusioned with at this point as it is."

"I agree," Sirius says. "Maybe they have a point, but I can't see how these mutated monsters are really an improvement."

"I believe that it's an early stage of development," Tom says. "This corprus reminds me of Shaper magic. If that's true, it could well be used to revitalize the Ashlands with new plant and animal life, if given sufficient development."

"I'm curious," Hermione says. "I'll reserve judgment for now."

"Their dreams are troubled," Luna says. "But perhaps this pain is merely the passing of change. I'll suggest supporting the Dreamers."

"What's not to like about power?" Gellert says.

"The fact that it makes you ugly," Sirius says.

"That's awfully racist of you," I comment.

"The fact that it makes you crazy," Sirius amends.

"We're all mad here," Gellert says.

"The fact that it turns you into a mutated, flesh-eating monster bent on attacking everything nearby," Sirius says. "And hangs around naked in caves."

"Sirius, _you_ hung around naked in a cave," I point out.

"It was a better furnished cave!" Sirius insists. "Also it was a mansion, not a cave."

"Fine, let's give interior decorating advice to the raving mutant monsters," Gellert says.

"I'm with Sirius on this one," Remus says. "I don't like this."

"What's that, three in favor and three against now?" I ask.

"I'll put down 'against' as well," Hermione says.

"And I'm in favor," I say. "Rispy, you want to be tiebreaker here?"

Rispy sighs. "I abstain."

"Surely _you_ know something about this that could tip the scales one way or another," I say.

" _I abstain_ ," Rispy says firmly.

"Well," I say. "We should be coming to more of a consensus than a majority vote, regardless."

"Yes," Rispy agrees. "I will not be the one on whom the fate of Tamriel rests."

"I want to hear your thoughts, regardless," I say.

"Do you really want to hear what I think?" Rispy asks.

"Absolutely," I say. "Ignorance is always better than knowledge."

"Don't expect any wisdom from the past here," Rispy says. "My thoughts in the present, using only the knowledge I have obtained the present and tempered through my own experience."

"That's more than fine," I say.

"My thoughts are…" Rispy closes his eyes. "This is a horrible idea and I'm terrified of what might come of it, but I will follow you down this path regardless if that is your choice. And so. I say. I abstain. I will do whatever Lexen wants."

"You are not my slave, Rispy," I say. "Your loyalty is commendable, but you have as much right to your thoughts and opinions as anyone else here. And I would dearly like to hear them more often."

"So, is that it, then?" Sirius asks. "Will we fight?"

"We fight," I say.

"I don't want my vote to have been the deciding one," Rispy says with a scowl.

"Then _mine_ will be," I say. "Let's do this."

We head back into the shrine room and once again face Dagoth Gares.

"So, what will it be?" Gares asks. "Do you choose war or friendship?"

"We will fight," I say.

"Disappointing, but perhaps not surprising," Gares says.

Bound weapons swirl into existence in our hands. Shields shimmer around us. Destruction spells crackle in our hands. With our will turned to a single purpose, we fight, and we strike down Dagoth Gares.

But as Gares dies, he smiles at me in a most unsettling way. "As my Master wills, you will come to him…"

A wave of pain and nausea wracks my body, and the world goes black.

* * *

I wake in pain, and blink up into light.

"Where am I?" I rasp.

"Hlormaren," Tom's voice replies. "You have corprus."

"Fuck," I utter. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Tom says. "A death curse, I believe. It hit you hard enough that it knocked you out instantly. You've been out for over a day now and your condition has been steadily worsening."

"I don't think 'fuck' will suffice, then," I mutter.

"I've been working on a cure, but I don't know when I might have it ready," Tom says.

"Tom, people have been working on a cure for _years_ ," I say. "What makes you think you can have it ready in _days_?"

"I have no reason to believe that you are going to die immediately," Tom says. "Some of the people in the Corprusarium have been in there for centuries or longer."

"I could lose my mind, though," I say. "That's a more terrifying thought."

"This is true," Tom says. "And even if it _did_ kill you, I would find a cure somehow by repeating the same day over and over."

I push myself to a sitting position, groaning in pain, and look down at my hands. The right hand is swollen to the point it couldn't grasp anything, and the left is covered with small knots of growth. I choke out half a laugh. That prophecy was bullshit. It was foolish to put any store in it, even for a moment. Age might not touch me, but I'm just as vulnerable to blight as anyone else.

"I'm not willing to take that chance," I say. "There is one person I can be absolutely certain will be able to stop this."

Tom sighs. "This is true."

"Lexen, don't be insane," Kirlin says, coming into view. "This is exactly what he wants. This was a _deliberate_ curse. He knows full well you have no better options."

"I'm sorry," Rispy says quietly from the corner.

"Rispy…" I whisper.

"If I hadn't said anything—"

"If you hadn't said anything, it would change nothing," I say.

"Maybe it would have been better had you gone to Red Mountain of your own volition and not because your hand was forced," Rispy says.

"Better than following a fucking prophecy." I climb to my feet, staggering. "Regardless of circumstances, there are always choices. And this is still my own choice. I'm going to Red Mountain."

"If you're set on that…" Rispy says wearily, "… then I'd best go watch your back."

"Is he awake?" Gellert asks, coming into the room and up to my side. None of them seem the list bit concerned about catching this shit.

"Hi, love," I say with a forced grin.

"How do you feel?" Gellert asks.

"Like hell," I say.

"You _look_ like hell," Gellert says.

"If you're going to Red Mountain, how are we going to get you there?" Tom asks. "The Ghostfence surrounds Red Mountain on all sides, and the only way in is through Ghostgate."

"And Ghostgate is controlled by the Temple," Kirlin says. "They'd attack him on sight if he came near it."

"Nothing that all-concealing hoods and Illusion magic can't solve," I say.

"Well, people do go through on pilgrimage," Kirlin says. "Though they don't tend to go very far, it's not like they'd actually stop us if we went in and they didn't realize… what you… are— are becoming."

"I still think this isn't necessary," Tom says. "I'll go meet up with Divayth and we can get our notes together and see what we can do."

"Weren't you arguing _for_ joining Dagoth Ur?" Gellert asks, then looks to Kirlin. "And weren't you arguing _against_ it?"

"Circumstances change," Tom says.

"We don't need to argue about this," Kirlin says. "It's easy to discuss morality when none of us is dying of a horrible disease."

"We can still pursue both angles," Tom says. "Just don't sleep or pass out if you can help it, so if one or the other fails, we can still reset and try something else."

"I don't know if I'll be able to help it, but I'll try," I say.

* * *

I arrive in Fort Buckmoth via Divine Intervention, the closest point to Ghostgate that we could easily teleport to, and Kirlin, Gellert, Luna, and Rispy appear around me.

Raesa is outside at the moment and notices as we arrive. "Are you the team that was going to Gnaar Mok?"

"That's us," Kirlin says.

"Lexen, is that you?" Raesa asks, peering toward my hooded figure.

"Yes," I rasp. "Mission accomplished, but you'd best get word to Caius that I'm not coming back."

"Shit, you've got corprus, too?" Raesa says, taking a step away.

"I knew the risks," I say. "I'm going to get out of here before I infect anymore of your men."

We head out of the fort and make our way along the road by the Ghostfence. The biggest magical forcefield I have ever seen, and it's powered by _ghosts_? Dunmer and their hypocrisy about necromancy, I swear. Why couldn't they have made it powered by cliff racers instead? Or at least embraced the necromancy that they obviously do all the time?

I'm surprised at how calm I am about the whole thing, now that I've committed myself to a course. Or maybe it just hasn't really sunk in yet. Well, it's probably not going to get a chance to sink in, as I don't know how long my mind is going to hold out against corprus. There's a reason why I was more willing to deal with a former friend than wait around hoping for a cure. I'm more terrified of losing my mind than my body.

We arrive at the Ghostgate fortress, two strong towers standing over an arch blocked by bars. Kirlin goes up and presses a button on a small obelisk in front of the archway, and one set of bars slides down, allowing us to pass. Maybe we shouldn't have been so worried about anyone here seeing us after all. There's nobody outside. Can't really blame them on that. We pass through the second set of bars and into the Red Mountain area.

The land is desolate and gray, not even marked by specks of color of fire ferns. As we walk, an ash storm stirs around us, but it quickly becomes apparent that this is not a normal ash storm as seen outside. The wind is blood red, and my companions start coughing until they get bubbles up around their heads. It doesn't seem to bother me, though. Maybe it's hard to notice it on top of the constant pain that is corprus.

We wander around the twisting mountain pathways for far too long. We have to stop to take refuge in a cave and eat, and then continue on. It would difficult to navigate under normal circumstances, but even more so when we can't see ten feet in front of our faces. All the while, we find ourselves having to fight off ash creatures and random daedra. What are they even doing in here? We wind up resetting more than once because an ogrim got the drop on us in the blight storm.

At last, we crest the lip of the mountain and come down into a crater with lava at the bottom, and the vague shapes of Dwemer ruins barely visible through the blowing blighted ash. As we come over the ridge, we're struck with a blast of wind. It seems to be originating from the crater itself. I don't know how we're going to get inside without being able to see where we're going.

"Damnit, Voryn," I yell. "If you really wanted us to come, then let us in! We can't see where we're going."

As we stumble down toward the glow of the lava, the wind suddenly stops and the air clears. I think he must have heard me. The Dwemer fortress stands clear before us, its gears and valves partially surrounding the pool of lava. It's a wonder that the volcano hasn't consumed the place by this point.

I go over and try to turn a valve to open the doors, but my swollen, diseased hand can't quite grasp it. Kirlin comes up beside me and turns it for me. The sphere in front of the door turns and parts, allowing us to head inside the round hatch.

"You guys didn't have to walk into hell for me," I say quietly.

"You would have never made it on your own," Kirlin says.

"It's so bright…" Luna breathes.

"What is?" I ask. "What do you see?"

"I see the Heart," Luna says.

"Heart of what?" I ask.

"The Heart of Lorkhan," Luna replies. "Here fell the essence of a dead god."

"Is this what the Tribunal used to gain their power?" I wonder.

"I believe so," Luna says. "It has the same magical signature as I saw around Vivec. No wonder his aura looked so strange. It was infused with power that was not his own."

"He stole the godhood," I say softly.

A voice from nowhere echoes around us, "They are greedy thieves. You do went not to listen to their lies."

"Hello, Voryn," I say.

"Welcome, Nerevar," the voice of Dagoth Ur replies.

"Are you going to welcome me by not trying to kill me before we can meet face-to-face again?" I ask. "Or face-to-mask, as the case may be, I suppose. It should probably be mask-to-mask, but I seem to have lost all my masks."

"How much do you remember, my friend?" the echoing voice asks.

"Enough, and not enough," I say. "You say I betrayed you, but I do not know why." I shake my head. "Maybe you can enlighten me as to what really happened. Either way, let's have a nice, long talk in person, alright?"

"Yes, I should know by now that trying to kill you accomplishes nothing," Dagoth Ur says. "Come, then. Meet me in the Heart chamber, where we last met. We can speak, and I can show you my great work."

We continue on, down through the facilities. As we go, Luna can't stop staring at one particular spot ahead and beneath us. Gellert has to steady her a few times to make sure that she doesn't slip and fall into the lava churning far beneath the catwalks.

In one room, a broad creature with tentacles for a face, wearing ornate robes, stands before us. "Lord Nerevar," it—he?—says. "Lord Dagoth has bid me to permit you to pass. I would prefer to fight, but that is his will."

"I'm not going to fight you," I say.

"Then go," the tentacled being says. "Lord Dagoth awaits you in the Heart chamber."

We continue on. At last, my eyes finally behold the man who has been appearing in my dreams ever since I arrived in this world. A Dunmer man, standing tall, wearing nothing but an ornate golden mask and a loincloth with a broad belt.

"So you have come, Nerevar, my friend," Dagoth Ur says.

"Dagoth Ur," I say. "Voryn Dagoth. Whichever you're calling yourself now."

I'm not entirely sure how I know his name was originally Voryn.

"To you, Voryn will suffice." The mask turns to look over my friends. "And who is this you've brought with you? Two whose dreams I've seen, and two whose minds have been closed to me."

There are introductions all around. Kirlin seems nervous, forcing bravado into her shaking voice as she speaks her name.

Rispy looks flatly toward the masked man. If he's as terrified as he said he was, he doesn't show it. "Rispy."

"Rispy!?" Dagoth Ur says incredulously. "I should have expected that wherever Nerevar went, you'd be right behind him. And you're a Khajiit now?"

"The world works in strange ways at times," Rispy says.

"Nerevar remembers little," Dagoth Ur says. "What do _you_ remember?"

"Everything," Rispy replies. "Every last twisting bit of this whole mess. And I've told him nothing. I've told him _not one word_."

"Why?" Dagoth Ur wonders.

"At this point, I'm wondering that myself," I say.

"What good would it do to recount how many iterations we went through?" Rispy says. "How many variations on events occurred at once? If you can imagine it, it probably happened. You betrayed him in one loop. He betrayed you in another. Vivec saved you. Vivec murdered you. Everyone became gods and everyone was destroyed. I don't even know myself which version of events 'stuck'."

"The Dragon Break," I say quietly.

"And by the time I could make sense of what was going on, we were gone," Rispy says. "The world was gone. We were somewhere else entirely. There we were, one moment fighting on Red Mountain, and then… sunshine and flowers, somewhere far, far away."

I put a swollen hand to my forehead. "For what it's worth, Voryn, I'm sorry."

"So, Nerevar, have you come to make war or peace?" Dagoth Ur asks. "To be friends or enemies?" He pauses. "But no. You're here because you're ill and I'm the only one who can help you. No pledge of friendship means anything if it comes under duress."

"Your own Dagoth Gares _gave_ this to me," I say.

"Yes, and quite a gift it is," Dagoth Ur says. "A divine blessing."

"How is this a blessing?" I wonder.

"Once you've learned how to control it, your shape is yours to command," Dagoth Ur says. "No disease can touch you, no injury can keep you down. All weakness can be wiped away, granting you incredible strength, and the ability to harness magic that would destroy your mortal form."

"Lexen," Rispy says quietly. "You remember the Geneforge. You remember the augmentation canisters. This sounds a lot like what he's talking about."

I nod. "It does."

"Well, whatever it is, it sounds awesome," Gellert says.

"I will teach you how to keep corprus from destroying you," Dagoth Ur says. "You come to me in peace. In honor of our old friendship, I will ask nothing of you for that. You are fond of saying that there are always choices, and I will not take that choice from you, regardless of Gares' actions."

"Thank you," I say.

"And here, come into the Heart chamber and let me show you what I have been working on," Dagoth Ur says.

He leads us into the next room, awash in heat from lava far beneath the catwalks. A massive construct stands before us, the size of a four-story building. The design of this enormous droid is clearly Dwemer-inspired.

"I call it Akulakhan," Dagoth Ur says. "The second Numidium."

" _That_ is completely awesome," I declare.

I lean forward and peer down. In the automaton's torso, a shimmering object like a large gemstone hovers in the air, I glance aside to see Luna's eyes fixed on the spot. No pupil is visible. Her eyes are completely blue.

"Is that the Heart of Lorkhan?" I ask.

"It is," Luna says distantly.

"Alas, it is not yet complete," Dagoth Ur says. "I need the tools of Kagrenac, the Dwemer artificer, in order to finish it. The tools they used to make the first Numidium. With the hammer Sunder, the power of the Heart can be unleashed. With the dagger Keening, that power can be focused. But Wraithguard, the gauntlet, is needed to protect yourself from that energy, otherwise just trying to wield Keening and Sunder would quickly kill you. I have Keening and Sunder in my possession, but without Wraithguard, I cannot complete my work."

"Where is Wraithguard, then?" I wonder.

"Vivec has it," Dagoth Ur says.

"That certainly complicates things," Gellert says.

"Yes," Dagoth Ur agrees. "I cannot leave this place to confront him myself. His power steadily weakens as he attempts to maintain the Ghostfence."

"Maybe we can act where you can't," I suggest.

"Yes," Dagoth Ur says. "Yes, you might at that. With the power of the Heart behind you, you may be strong enough to bring him down long enough to take Wraithguard from him."

"Why were the murder attempts and nightmares even necessary?" I wonder.

Gellert snickers. "Yeah, all you had to do was tell him, 'hey, ol' buddy, ol' pal, can you give me a hand finishing my awesome robot?' And he'd have been falling over himself."

"Does it talk?" I ask. "Can you make it call people 'meatbags'? And say things like 'Query: Shall we slaughter some meatbags today, Master?'"

By this point, Dagoth Ur is beside himself with laughter. "Ah, I have missed you."

* * *

Time passes in a blur as we learn and grow strong, stronger than we've ever been before. Hermione comes once she finds out what we're doing, and although she still has some reservations, she's never one to turn down an opportunity to learn. Sirius, Remus, and Tom remain missing, though. I don't know what they're doing, and I'm not going to go tracking them down. Whatever they're doing, though, causes several unexpected resets. They must be working on something dangerous. I leave them to that, though. It's not like the resets are any great setback.

At last, I think we're finally ready. There are six of us, and Tom might consider it an unlucky number, but it's what we've got. We make our way near Vivec City via the propylon network, and cast Almsivi Intervention, depositing us in front of the temple. Ordinators are upon us in an instant, recognizing us on sight for what we are, what we've become. We sweep them away like golden rubbish, knocking several of them into the water. Civilians flee at the sight of us, and we march upon the palace like a juggernaut of doom. Once the area is clear of hostiles, I cast a Magic Nap outside of Vivec's palace.

I slam open the palace door with a shout, and we charge in. Vivec might have godlike power, but right now, so do we. Maybe Vivec is immortal, but so are we, and not because of any connection to the heart of a dead god.

We fight fervently, but his power is too much for us, and he slays us all, growling like an animal. We reset outside, and go in again, undaunted. Again and again, we see how he fights, we see what we need to do to get at him. We can do this as many times as we have to. He has to have weaknesses and oversights somewhere.

But in the end, I think he just winds up letting us win. That last time, maybe it's my imagination, maybe it's just that we've gotten that good at predicting his moves, but it almost seems like he's only obligatorily fighting back. At that point, though, I'm not about to complain. I lost track of how many attempts we made.

I go over and pick up the gauntlet from the body, but spare a moment to take a long look at his two-toned face, Dunmer gray on one side, Chimer golden on the other. Do I remember him? Do I remember a friend, a betrayer, a murderer, a thief? I'm not sure. And that uncertainty never quite stops gnawing at me.

Wraithguard in hand, we Recall to Red Mountain and hand it off to Dagoth Ur.

"Ah, I wasn't sure if you were truly ready or not," Dagoth Ur says, looking over the gauntlet. "It's inactive. I will need to activate it again. This will only take a moment."

The gauntlet shimmers for a moment, and he puts it on his hand. He already has the Dwemer hammer and the crystal dagger laid out on the table before the Heart of Lorkhan in preparation.

"Stand back, lest you be harmed inadvertently," Dagoth Ur says, picking up Sunder. "Now, bear witness to my greatest achievement." He pauses. "No. _Our_ greatest achievement. I could not have come this far without you."

Dagoth Ur swings Sunder and strikes the Heart. A ringing sound echoes through the chamber, one pure note hanging in the air like a great bell. He sets aside Sunder and picks up Keening, and brings it down at an angle. The sound breaks apart into a vibrant chord, almost deafening. Radiant light erupts from the Heart of Lorkhan as Dagoth Ur swings Keening one more time.

The world goes white.

* * *

I wake slowly, the world rocking around me, only to realize that it's not the world. I'm on a ship.

"Wake up," says Jiub. "Wake up, we're here. Why are you shaking? Are you okay?"


	18. Waking

It feels odd stepping off the prison ship onto the dock in Seyda Neen again. Sun shines brightly off the water, and the high-pitched moan of a silt strider echoes through the air. I feel weak, so very, very weak, like I can barely walk. After the strength I'd just had, to come crashing down to this level again is… humbling, to say the least.

"Move along now," says the guard on the dock. "How long as it been since you've seen the sun? No, don't answer that. They're waiting for you inside for you to sign your release papers."

At least I don't almost fall into the water this time. I move inside, moving slowly, still in a daze. I fill out my release papers reflexively. Lexen Skywalker, born under the sign of the Serpent, and why do they care what sort of skills I have, anyway? What would happen if I just blatantly lied about it? Probably nothing. I don't think anyone is even actually looking at this paperwork.

And then I grab everything in the building that nobody will spot me taking, because once again I am poor and still being dazed over what happened won't stop me from being a kleptomaniac adventurer. No, I don't know what I'm going to do with all this tableware that will probably only sell for two drakes at most. On the way out, I receive the package I'm supposed to deliver to Caius Cosades, and wonder just what the _hell_ I'm going to tell him.

"Were you in prison for thievery, by any chance?" says the Imperial handling my paperwork, glancing at my bulging sack.

I glance around shifty. "… Maybe?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "I can't arrest or fine you for thievery right now. You're being released from prison and you're broke. You've got a dispensary coming, anyway. How about you put that down, and I'll 'buy' it back from you? I'm sure you're probably desperate for pocket change, but you don't need to sell our tableware for that."

"Yeah, okay, sorry." I put the bag down, and he hands me a pouch of coins.

Once I'm outside, a Bosmer man approaches me, and asks, "Hey, I just saw you come out of the Census and Excise Office. While you were there, you didn't happen to see a ring, did you?"

I pull the ring out of my pocket, that I'd picked up out of habit. Last time around, I barely even used the thing, and it wasn't even that valuable. No great loss. "Is this it?" I offer it to him.

"Yes! That's it. Thank you!" He slips it on his finger. "I'll tell my friend Arrille, who runs the tradehouse, how you helped me. I'm sure he'll give you a discount on his wares."

"Sure," I say. "Name's Lexen."

I loiter around town for a bit, get a drink, talk to some people. I give some crab meat to a hungry Khajiit. I hear a rumor about a murdered taxman, and make a note to keep an eye out. It's the little problems that are comforting against the insurmountable idea of a battle of gods against gods.

I leave town on foot. While a ride by silt strider might not be unwelcome right now, a walk is relaxing. I'm weak, and slow, but the world… feels real. At least by now, Luna has taught me how to keep from attracting the ire of animals, so I'm not constantly getting harassed by every rat and cliff racer.

The body of a robed mage lies on the trail in front of me. Right, that guy. Maybe one of these loops I can time it right to catch him with a slow fall spell or something. But I don't feel too bad about it. It's really not my job to save everyone from their own foolishness. But maybe I can save some people who didn't deserve what happened to them. Like Hannat. Not that I'm eager to go delving into Sixth House strongholds again. Actually it might be best to just _avoid_ contact with any Sixth House elements until I'm absolutely certain that I'm ready to deal with Dagoth Ur again.

It occurs to me, as I'm strolling through the swamp collecting mushrooms, that I have not even really gotten to know anyone in this world. Caius was the only person I really had much contact with. I didn't even really speak to any of the other Blades, for all that I supposedly was a member of that organization. Just as I was starting to get to know a few people at the Mages Guild and the South Wall Cornerclub, I moved out to Hlormaren and isolated myself.

Another pair of shelf mushrooms go into my pack. I don't remember how many samples Ajira at the Mages Guild needed of what, but I'll make sure to get enough for her. I wasn't intending on taking a detour through the swamp, but my feet led me there anyway, so I just go with it. I test some spells along the way, just to make sure that my magic is intact. I haven't forgotten anything I'd learned, but my body is weaker and less able to handle as much magicka, even before I'd taken on the heavily augmented body Dagoth Ur gave me. Back to square one, I suppose, but at least I still have my skills, and that's the important part.

I pass a ramshackle fishing village that a sign proclaims is Hla Oad, and vaguely remember Tom's cave was somewhere near here. I don't know what he spent the last days of the previous loop doing, but I'm dying to find out what killed him so many times. I locate it and head inside. The undead automatically turn to me, about to attack reflexively.

"Hey," I say. "It's me, Lexen. I'm here to see Tom. Let me through."

The undead back off and stand down. I head into the cave unmolested. In the back of the cave, in the only relatively civilized part, the familiar Argonian necromancer is hard at work on… _something_. I can't quite tell what it's supposed to be, but it's round and covered in strange markings.

"Good, you're here," Tom says. "I was wondering if you'd come here first thing or continue avoiding me."

"I thought you were avoiding _me_ ," I say. "I was leaving you alone to do whatever it was you were working on."

"Just as well, I suppose," Tom says. "By the way. Divayth _did_ have a cure, or at least an experimental one that killed everyone he'd tried it on. I wanted to try it on you, but you were pretty committed by that point."

"I still don't believe what I did was a mistake," I say. "I can easily see how Voryn was an old friend of mine."

"And yet it somehow caused a full reset," Tom says. "What, exactly, were you doing when it happened?"

"We'd just put together Kagrenac's tools," I say. "And were using them on the Heart of Lorkhan."

Tom sighs. "Yes, I can see how that would do it. In light of that, I suppose I should not be surprised. We should be fortunate it did not work out worse. Let us make an important note then that fucking around with the Heart of Lorkhan can cause a full reset."

"Point taken," I say. "I suppose that also means we now know how to trigger it deliberately if necessary."

Tom grunts and doesn't respond to that comment. "So. Tell me, then. What did Dagoth Ur do to you? What was it like? And would you do it again?"

"It was… amazing," I say. "Although a little overwhelming. That sort of power at my hands, but he was always there in my mind. My perception of the world was different. And now that I'm here, alone and weak, well. It's almost like a fading dream, like it was never fully real in the first place. I feel like _this_ is what is real. And all that power I had, I feel like I never really earned it. I have no compunction against doing it again, but I wouldn't seek it out."

"You'll note that I didn't seek it out, either," Tom says. "I understand the danger of power at too high a price. But I had to let you take your own course."

"I don't understand," I say. "You were the one advocating joining up with him in the first place. You were talking about the merits in the sort of 'Shaping' magic."

"I was," Tom says. "I wasn't advocating self-Shaping, though. There's a world of difference between Shaping others and Shaping yourself. I would not have agreed to it had I know that was what it would entail."

I nod tersely. "Right. I see. Yeah. I remember how bad things got with those augmentation canisters in Terrestia. Once I had corprus though, I kind of panicked."

"That's understandable," Tom says.

"I regret nothing, though," I say. "What _are_ you working on?" I peer over and examine the item he was busy with when I came in.

Tom holds it up. It's smaller than it was, and now it just looks like a magic ring. "Once I realized Divayth already had a potential cure for corprus on hand, and that you were set on your course regardless, I changed tracks. I focused on my dimensional work. I actually had a functional prototype ready by the time the loop ended. Now I'm trying to recreate that work. It's much easier now that I know what I need to do, though."

"The tent of hell?" I ask.

Tom nods, chuckling. "Yes. That. I'm going to advise that we leave the propylon network alone for the moment."

"It was pretty convenient for getting around," I say.

"Telasero," Tom says flatly.

I make a face. "Point. Yeah. I was thinking that we ought to avoid contact with the Sixth House as long as possible. Don't let them know we're here until we're ready for them."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment," Tom says.

"I'm also thinking of just telling Caius everything," I say. "And I am _not_ going to do his runaround again collecting information I already know."

Tom cocks his head. "From the little interaction I had with him, he seems trustworthy, if anyone is. He hardly batted an eye at our weirdness. But, you interacted with him more. I'll defer to your judgment in that. Meanwhile, feel free to set your Mark here so you can Recall. It's not much of a base of operations, but it will do until I can finish the portable pocket dimension."

"The Mages Guild knows you're here," I say. "Aren't you worried about that?"

Tom snorts softly. "Hermione or someone can warn me if in the unlikely event Ranis finds someone both competent enough to do it and willing to wade through a swamp for her. It took her several days to tap you and Sirius for it, so she's not going to be finding anyone before that, and probably not for a good while after that, too."

"You have a point there." I go and cast a Mark in the middle of the cave, somewhere unobtrusive.

"You can feel free to rest here if you like, or dump crap you don't want to carry," Tom says.

"Storage is nice, but I'm not going to sleep," I say. "And going to advise no one sleep if we can help it. If we're trying to avoid the Sixth House for now, best give them as little chance as possible to see our dreams."

"I can't argue with that," Tom says.

"I'm going to Balmora now," I say. "Can't argue with more hours in a day to do things, either."

* * *

Almsivi Intervention deposits me in front of the temple in Balmora. I don't think I'll bother joining in this loop, not unless I get really bored. I'm pretty disillusioned with them as it is. First off, I head straight for the Mages Guild. I have a pack full of mushrooms I need to sell to a Khajiit, and I ought to get in touch with Hermione as well. I debate on whether I want to join the Mages Guild, either, but figure I might as well. I may need their services, and a discount won't hurt. I approach Ranis Athrys and sign up, and head downstairs.

Hermione is sitting at a table, reading. I know full well she's already read every book in here. First I stop by Ajira, though.

"Hey," I say. "Are you Ajira?" The Khajiit nods, and I continue, "I just joined the Mages Guild and Ranis told me to ask you for duties. Also, I have some mushrooms to sell you."

"Ajira is pleased. This one was going to ask you to collect mushroom samples for her, but this is more than I had hoped for. Take these coins and potions as payment."

I put the potions away, and head over to take a seat at Hermione's table. "What are you reading?"

" _Where Were You When the Dragon Broke?_ " she replies.

"Ah." I glance about the room discreetly, and continue quietly, "Tom's got plans. They looked like really cool ones, too."

"Oh?" Hermione replies. "I want to see."

"Sure," I say. "Shall we?"

Hermione closes her book and tucks it under one arm, and puts the other arm around me. I Recall us back to Tom's cave.

"Lexen tells me you're working on something interesting," Hermione says, approaching him.

I grin to myself and leave them to that, and teleport back to Balmora. Caius' house is in the corner of town across the river, and he's inside, shirtless as always, when I arrive.

"I'm Lexen Skywalker," I tell him. "And you would be Caius Cosades?"

"That's me," Caius says. "What can I do for you?"

I pull out the coded package I'd been told to give him and pass it over. "May I take a seat? I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

"Be my guest." Caius ignores me for a few minutes as he quickly decodes the message. "So, you were ordered to report to me? This says I'm to induct you into the Blades. That means you'll be reporting to me. Are you ready to follow my orders?"

I make a face. "Technically, I already joined, sort of. I have quite a lot to report, and the situation is a bit more complicated than that message implies. It's not their fault, they had no idea. Well, the Emperor probably did, at least."

"You decoded this message?" Caius wonders, and peers at the package. "There wasn't any sign of tampering."

"I did not," I say. "You gave me the decoded version in the future."

Caius stares at me. "I'm not sure whether you're joking or not."

"Alright, let me tell you plainly," I say. "I'm the Nerevarine. I'm immortal. Time rejects my death. Any time when I would have died, I go back in time and can make another choice."

"So," Caius says. "Let me get this straight. You died and came back in time?"

"Well… not precisely, this time," I muse. "I believe it was a Dragon Break. Dagoth Ur is constructing a second Numidium, powered by the Heart of Lorkhan. The minute he activated it… the world went white, and I woke up on a prison ship arriving at Morrowind."

Caius is quiet for a long moment, before saying, "Well. Shit." He leans on his elbows and pins me with a look. "Tell me everything."

I tell him everything I'd learned about the Sixth House and their activities. I relay the Nerevarine prophecies and the beliefs of the Ashlanders. I even demonstrate my ability to change my apparent age at will. I don't think I need to go into the fact that I'm from another world and Azura sent me here to do what I do. The situation is already complicated enough without adding that huge layer underneath the cake.

Caius leans back in his chair. "I'm going to need to think on all this and figure out what to do. As for you, you'd best get a cover story set up."

"Agreed," I say. "And if it's all the same to you, I would prefer not to come into contact with any Sixth House elements _at all_ for a good while. I don't want them to know I even exist."

Caius nods. "I'm definitely not going to be sending you out to meet contacts and gather information about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults. That's no longer necessary. You may want to get in touch with the other Blades, though. They can offer training, supplies, and assistance. One look at you tells me you're weak as a kitten right now, probably from spending all that time in prison."

"No kidding," I say. "I still know my skills, but my body is in sad shape. Can you tell me who they are and where to find them?"

He lists off several names and locations around Vvardenfell. One of them, however, sounds familiar.

"Nine-Toes?" I ask.

"He's an Argonian," Caius says. "You can find him right down the street."

"Sounds good. Alright, if that'll be all, I'll leave you to it and go meet the other Blades." I stand up and cast a quick Magic Nap spell.

"What's that spell?" Caius asks. "Weird combination of colors."

"I call it 'Magic Nap'," I say with a snicker. "Dagoth Ur gets into people's dreams, and there is no way in Oblivion I'm going to give him a chance, even for a moment."

"Good idea," Caius says.

I head out and down the street. It's late, and only the lanterns hanging outside buildings cast any light upon the streets. But it's calm, and peaceful, and no Sleepers approach me and speak to me by name. I locate Nine-Toes' house and go inside. An Argonian, and not a werewolf, although he seems to have six toes like every other Argonian.

"Nine-Toes?" I ask.

The Argonian chuckles. "Yes, that's me."

"I'm Lexen Skywalker, the newest member of the Blades," I say. "Caius sent me to you."

"Ah, in that case, welcome. You looking for training, or a bit of a leg up? You look like you could probably use both. Here, let me help you out." Nine-Toes pulls out a bag full of a mysterious white powder. "Moon sugar. You should know that it's illegal to trade in moon sugar, and the skooma that can be made from it."

"And this is why you're giving it to me." I grin, taking the bag.

"Sometimes we need to bend the law to get things done," Nine-Toes says. "Most honest merchants won't touch the stuff, but Khajiit probably will."

"Yeah, I have a Khajiit friend who is going to love this stuff," I say.

"So, you looking for training?" Nine-Toes sizes me up.

I nod. "As you've probably noticed, I'm a bit out of shape."

"Yes, come back in the morning and we can start some exercises, then," Nine-Toes says. "But I'm not going to go easy on you."

I chuckle. "I'd expect no less. Nice meeting you, then. I'm going to go meet the other Blades in town."

I head out across the street and meet Tyermaillin, a high elf healer, and introduce myself.

"I'm mostly just here for support," Tyermaillin says.

I nod. "Every organization should have an in-house healer on hand, I think. Someone who isn't going to ask awkward questions like taking someone to the nearest temple might draw, am I right?"

"Precisely." Tyermaillin pulls out some alchemy equipment and offers it to me. "Here, I'm not using this old equipment any longer. You can use it, or sell it if you need the drakes."

"Thanks, but just so you know, I'm hopeless at alchemy," I say.

"Maybe you just need to practice more?" Tyermaillin says. "I don't know enough myself to feel confident in trying to train you in that. Maybe Ajira, over in the Mages Guild, could give you some pointers. I can, however, help you out if you want to learn item enchantment."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say.

I head upstairs to the room belonging to Rithleen, a Redguard warrior, and again introduce myself to her.

"Me, I'm just a courier," Rithleen says. "I don't know anything, and I like it that way. But I make sure messages get where they need to go, and don't ask too many questions. Here, let me help you out here. I've got some old armor I'm not using anymore. Wear it, or just sell it for some extra gold to buy something you actually need, I don't care."

She dumps some very heavy steel armor in my arms.

"Thanks," I manage.

Rithleen seems to be amused at my predicament. "If you ever need help learning to _use_ armor like that without falling over, look me up. I can help you out with fighting with a sword and shield, too, if that's your thing."

"I like swords," I say. "My body doesn't, though. I'll probably take you up on that in the near future."

In lieu of hauling the armor across town, I step outside and Recall back to Tom's cave. He and Hermione are currently quite intent upon their work, but they look up when I dump the heavy armor on the ground.

"I'm sure one or another of us won't mind wearing this stuff," I say. "I brought some alchemy equipment, too. And moon sugar."

"I really don't need more alchemy equipment, but that's fine, we can always just sell it," Tom says. "Have you been stealing things again?"

"No, people actually gave this to me," I say. "Caius directed me to some of the other Blades and they were feeling like giving handouts to the poor fresh-off-the-boat outlander. How are things going here?"

"Quite well, actually," Tom says. "With Hermione's help, I may be able to get this done soon."

"How soon is soon?" I ask.

"Within the week, I believe," Tom says. "It will take longer than that to construct a liveable space on the other side, but we'll be able to deploy it and use it by then. I believe I'll model it after an Ashlander yurt, to better fit in with the landscape."

"Won't people think something is odd if they notice people who are obviously not Ashlanders going in and out of an Ashlander yurt?" I wonder.

Tom shrugs. "How discreet we wind up being with that is entirely up to you."

"You mean it's entirely up to Gellert," I say. "Which means 'not at all' unless we can rein him in."

"True," Tom says. "No matter."

"I ought to go collect our friends," I say.

"They'll be fine," Tom says. "They can take care of themselves. The only one of them that's even in the slightest bit of trouble is Rispy, and he's in no immediate danger. In your current state, you wouldn't even be able to walk out there without getting torn apart by cliff racers."

"True," I admit reluctantly.

"I'm going to build a fixed anchor point to our magic tent here in this cave," Tom says. "That end will be strictly for emergencies, in case the portable key is destroyed, since it would open up a vulnerability. But one doesn't survive in a world without putting in contingencies for anything that might go wrong."

"Like how many times you got killed trying to make this work?" I ask.

"I forced a reset anytime I realized I was stuck in Oblivion," Tom says. "I decided to err on the side of caution and reset immediately rather than try to find a way out, since you weren't present to be sure that you weren't going to set a new reset point."

"Probably for the best," I say.

"And as a side note, Hermione, you are _never_ going to Apocrypha," Tom says. "You'd never get back out again."

"Why, is it that dangerous?" Hermione wonders.

"It's the realm of Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Forbidden Knowledge," Tom says. "Who you may as well have been named for. And it's full of books."

"Oh," Hermione says. "Ohh. Um."

"No, Hermione," Tom says with a smirk. "I'd drag you out myself if I had to. You might hate me for it, but I can live with that."

"That's… sweet of you," Hermione says. "But then how did you get out?"

"By being focused in my purpose and never considering otherwise," Tom says.


	19. Death and Taxes

"Good, you're here, Lexen," Nine-Toes says. "We're going jogging. You have any preference in direction?"

"Shall we head down toward Seyda Neen?" I suggest. "Caius mentioned one of the Blades is there, and there were a few things I wanted to do there."

"Sure, we can do that," Nine-Toes says. "You up to it?"

"I just walked up through the swamp yesterday," I say. "Though I was collecting mushrooms to sell the whole way."

"Not the same," Nine-Toes says. "I could make you swim back up, though."

"I'd never be able to keep up with an Argonian at swimming." I laugh softly.

"It'd be funny to watch you try, though," Nine-Toes says. "Come on."

We head south from Balmora along the river, moving at a good pace. It's hard to keep up. Did I somehow wind up coming back in time even weaker than I was the first time around, or is that just my perception of things? When we come to a bridge, I have to stop and take a breather. Nine-Toes hands me a flin bottle, and I take a drink, but there's no bite of alcohol in it.

"This is water," I say.

"Yes," Nine-Toes says. "You can have booze when we're done."

"I'm curious," I say. "And forgive me if I'm prying, but how'd you get the name Nine-Toes, anyway? For that matter, how _do_ Argonians get their names?"

"I get that question a lot," Nine-Toes says, chuckling.

"I'd imagine," I say with a grin. "Tell me, have you ever heard of 'pizza'?"

"Pizza?" Nine-Toes repeats.

"A type of food," I say. "I'd show you, but I think the ingredients might be hard to get in Morrowind. You take a flatbread and put cheese, tomato sauce, and sausage on top of it, and bake it."

"Hmm, sounds interesting," Nine-Toes says. "Alright, break's over, let's go."

We continue on. Rather than taking the shortcut through the swamp, we seem to be going the long way around. It's probably just as well, though, since it might be hard to jog in a swamp.

"So, what do you do when you're not dragging rookies out jogging?" I ask at our next break. "Or shouldn't I ask?"

"Ask away," Nine-Toes says. "I've been assigned to mapping the swamp. Our maps are incredibly sketchy of the area and we think suspicious activity might be taking place in there."

"I should get you in touch with a friend of mine," I say. "He's an enchanter and has been working on designs for magic maps for years. The latest version I saw not only magically updated based on your surroundings, but also showed you the positions and names of beings around you with an enhanced Detect Creatures enchantment."

"That sounds amazing," Nine-Toes says. "Also expensive."

I snort in amusement. "Yeah, I'm sure he could make a fortune off of it if he was ever willing to sell them. We don't let most people know they exist. Keep an advantage over the enemy, whoever that enemy might be at any given time."

"Ah," Nine-Toes says. "That sort of friend. Yes, I can understand keeping that sort of thing within the Blades. Either way, I would dearly love one of these maps. It would save me a lot of time and trouble."

At another crossroads, we turn and take a dogleg down the coast and into the swamp, and shortly pass the silt strider by Seyda Neen. I'm panting heavily from the exertion by that point.

"Sufficient, but plenty of room for improvement," Nine-Toes says.

"You mean my body is pathetic," I say. "Can I have a drink _now_?"

Nine-Toes chuckles. "Yes, let's head for the tradehouse."

We locate Arrille's tradehouse and head inside, and upstairs to the bar.

"Good day, Elone," Nine-Toes says. "Can you get us a couple of sheins?"

The Redguard woman behind the bar passes some drinks over to us. "Hey, Nine-Toes. Out on work? And who's this with you?"

"Name's Lexen Skywalker," Nine-Toes says. "Our newest 'friend'."

"Just arrived in Morrowind yesterday," I say. "Trying to start learning my way around the place. If it weren't for Nine-Toes, I would've gotten hopelessly lost between here and Balmora."

I don't comment on the fact that I can read the signs perfectly fine. Everyone seemed a little surprised by that before. But at the time, I didn't entirely know what to look out for if I was trying to blend in. I know better this time.

"Well, you've come to the right place, then," Elone says. "While I try to keep an eye on who's coming through the area, I'm really more dedicated to learning about the area. It's quite the opportunity, since we've only had access to Vvardenfell very recently."

She offers me a copy of a guide to Vvardenfell and tells me a little about the settlements. Nothing I don't already know _now_ , but I might have appreciated it when I first arrived here in the previous loop. I'm silently kicking myself at this point for being in such a hurry to get out of this little swamp village. I could have avoided a lot of trouble.

"Hey, did you hear anything about that missing taxman?" I ask.

"Not much," Elone says. "The locals don't seem to miss him much. I'll admit I'm a bit concerned. You going looking for him?"

I nod. "I'll see what I can find out."

I finish my shein and ask around the tavern for rumors and information. No one seems to know anything, but one Imperial tells me a bit of gossip about how someone lost something called Mentor's Ring somewhere on the coast. A very creepy Altmer woman who I'm certain must be a necromancer wants me to bring her a bone or something from her dead husband. I tell her I'll think about it. And one Nord wants me to get him money back from Fargoth, the Bosmer whose ring had been missing, and admitted to regularly shaking him down for coin.

"Oh come on, seriously now?" I say. "A big, badass Nord, and the best you can do is shake down Bosmer for pocket change?"

"That little fetcher has it coming," the Nord says. "And who are you to say otherwise? You an elf-lover?"

"Name's Lexen Skywalker," I say. "And you picked a strange part of Tamriel to be if you don't like elves."

Normally I'd at least start a tavern brawl here, but I'm not confident enough in my current physical prowess to go toe to toe with a Nord today.

"You're awfully scrawny yourself for a Nord, or someone with Nord blood at least. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"

"You're not worth my time," I say.

The Nord fumes at that, but doesn't seem willing to start a fight in here. "Milk-drinker," he mumbles as I walk away.

"Hey, Nine-Toes," I say, leaning up against the bar. "I'm going to go see if I can find out anything about this missing taxman."

"I'll go with you," Nine-Toes says. "If he got lost in the swamp, you'll want me along."

We head out, and I proceed to shake down everyone in town for gossip. While plenty of them mention the taxman, none of them seem to know anything else. A few of them complain about a local smuggler's den that the guards won't do anything about. One Dunmer woman mentions that her cousin saw a sunken city off the coast near Gnaar Mok, but that said cousin probably wasn't a reliable source of information. I tuck that tidbit away with the rest. If there's one thing I quickly discover, it's that people in Morrowind _love_ to gossip. Why did I never stop to talk to people before?

The two of us head into the swamp, and I stop to collect mushrooms along the coast. Not far from town, half sinking into the mud, I spot a body, and go up to it.

"Dead," says Nine-Toes, coming up beside me. "We can't do anything more for him."

I search the body and find a scroll and a pouch of gold. I unroll the scroll and look at it. "Tax record. This must be our poor missing taxman."

"Strange, if bandits got him, why would they leave the tax money?" Nine-Toes wonders.

"Strange indeed," I say. "Foul murder? Let's get this back to the Census and Excise Office."

Nine-Toes nods. "I'm going to get back to the tradehouse."

I take the tax record and money to the man who'd done my paperwork when I got off the boat. "I found your missing taxman. Murdered, it looks like."

"That's good news and bad. Processus Vitellius was a good man. I appreciate you bringing the money back as well, Lexen. If you can find out anything about his murderer and bring them to justice, there would be a reward in it for you."

"I wouldn't need a reward for something like that, but I'm definitely not going to turn down money for something I'd do anyway," I say with a smirk.

I head back outside and run across Fargoth again. At least now I know his name. I make a mental note to ask Sirius how he made names show up on his maps, so that I can keep the spell up at all times to find out the name of whoever I'm talking to. It would be very convenient if everyone had names floating above their heads. Might not be so convenient for identifying a body I find rotting in a swamp, though.

"Ah, Lexen!" Fargoth says. "How does the day greet you, my friend?"

"Just as a heads up, there's a pissy Nord in the tradehouse who has it out for you," I say.

"Oh, Hrisskar?" Fargoth says. "Ugh, yes, I've already figured that out. I'll stay sharp, thanks."

"You know that missing taxman?" I say, and at his nod, I continue. "I found him murdered. Murdered! Dumped his body in the swamp, if I hadn't been bending down to collect mushrooms I might have never noticed."

"Murdered?" Fargoth says. "I know people didn't like him very much, but that's no cause to murder a man, no matter how much he flaunted his wealth and lorded over people."

"Who would do such a thing?" I wonder.

"The only one who he really spent time around was Thavere Vedrano, the woman who runs the lighthouse," Fargoth says. "I think she must have fancied him. I don't envy the person who has to tell her he's dead."

"Might as well go talk to her myself," I say. "Maybe she has some idea who might have it out for him. But it seems like there's an awful lot of suspects in town, given his general popularity."

"Most of us wouldn't actually _kill_ someone, though," Fargoth says. "So I would hope, at least. Me, I'd have trouble even hurting someone in self defense!"

"Maybe that's why that Nord keeps harassing you," I say. "I recommend a swift knee to the groin."

I walk down along the water to the lighthouse. As the tallest building in town, it's not really hard to find. A Dunmer woman is inside.

"Hello," I say. "Are you Thavere Vedrano?"

"That's me," she says. "Can I help you?"

"I'm told that you and Processus Vitellius were close?" I ask.

"You could say that," Thavere says. "Wait, what do you mean, were? Did something happen?"

"I'm sorry," I say. "I found his body in the swamp. I think he was murdered."

Thavere gapes at me. "No, not Processus! It can't be! He can't be dead. Are you certain it was him?"

"He had the tax records and money on him," I say.

"Oh, no no no," Thavere murmurs, putting her face in her hands. "How can this be? Who would want to hurt him? He was such a kind, gentle man, even though no one really liked him because he had to take their money. And you say he still had money on him? I don't understand…"

"So you have no idea who could have done it," I say with a sigh. "It wouldn't bring him back, but I hope I can at least bring his killer to justice."

"Well, there _was_ one time he got into an argument with Foryn Gilnith," Thavere says. "It wasn't Processus' fault, though. Foryn was just upset about the taxes and claimed Processus was skimming money off, but Processus would never do such a thing."

"It's a place to look, at least," I say.

"I hate to ask, but did you find a ring on the body?" Thavere asks.

I shake my head. "No, I would have noticed a ring. It would seem strange if someone took a ring but left the tax money…"

"I gave him that ring," Thavere says. "I would like to at least have something to remember him by. If you could find that ring, I would be grateful."

"Maybe whoever killed him did it out of jealousy," I say. "I don't see any other reason to have taken the ring." I frown. "I don't suppose anyone in town showed an unwelcome interest in you?"

"No, I don't think so, at least," Thavere says.

"Alright, I'll go look into Foryn Gilnith, then," I say. "Which house is his?"

She gives me directions to one of the shitty fishing shacks along the beach, which I proceed to head over to and let myself in.

"Are you Foryn Gilnith?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's me," the Dunmer fisherman narrows his eyes at me. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm Lexen Skywalker," I say. "And I'm looking into the death of the tax collector, Processus Vitellius."

"You better believe I killed that fetcher," Foryn spits. "The man was corrupt, making himself rich off of our lifeblood. He kept asking for way more money than we should have owed, and kept the difference for himself. You should have seen the way he decked himself out in jewels and finery and swilled only the finest imported brandy."

"So, I guess you must have stripped his body and put rags on it after you killed him?" I ask. "Because while they were kind of muddy by the time I found him, the stuff he was wearing didn't look like anything special."

"Huh?" Foryn says. "Well, I did take a ring. I guess he must not have been wearing his best out to collect taxes that day."

"Thavere tells me she gave him that ring herself," I say.

"Well, you can give it back to her, then." Foryn pulls out the ring and hands it over to me. "She's not involved in this."

"And you know, what you did there was disgracefully sloppy," I say. "Not disposing of bodies properly and all. Amateur."

"It's not like I kill people regularly!" Foryn retorts.

"Yes, you give murderers like me a bad name." I smirk. "I always make sure I can get away with it. Oh, and sometimes give the bodies to my necromancer friend, too."

"W-What?" Foryn sputters. "You're sick, man."

"Now, listen," I say. "You killed a man over money, and then didn't even take the money on him."

"I didn't want his filthy, ill-gotten gold."

"Another mistake," I say. "If he'd been found without the money, it would have been assumed to be bandits and the investigation would not have gone any further."

"What was I supposed to do?" Foryn says. "Everyone knows I've got nothing!"

"Are you seriously complaining about him taking your money and then saying you don't know what you'd do with money?" I wonder. "It's not like you'd even have to keep it if you felt bad about it. Drop it in front of the nearest shrine when nobody is looking and be done with it."

"Is that what _you_ would have done if you'd discovered a corrupt taxman was taking too much money from you?" Foryn asks.

"Well, no," I say. "First I would try to get out of paying taxes at all. That has so far worked quite well for me, except for that time I got arrested, sent to prison, and then dumped in Morrowind because they didn't want me in Cyrodiil anymore, but I'm sure that was more about the theft and murder thing and less the tax evasion."

"You're complaining because you're a better criminal than me," Foryn points out.

I go on, "But then, if I couldn't get out of paying taxes at all, I'd make sure they had no idea just how much money I actually had. And if I thought someone was actually being corrupt and taking more money than they were supposed to — because, mind you, if they were just taking as much money as they were supposed to, the next taxman would still want the same amount anyway so murdering this one wouldn't help. _Then_ , I might… publicly humiliate them and force them to resign. Honestly now, it's just money, it's not worth getting worked up over."

"Try saying that when you can hardly afford to eat," Foryn retorts.

I hold up a finger. "I just got dumped off a prison ship yesterday, remember? Wearing rags, broke as a stone?"

"That's an awfully nice robe you're wearing for someone who claims to be broke," Foryn says.

"Oh, this? A well-dressed man fell out of the sky at my feet."

Foryn looks at me in disbelief. "Guar shit."

"I spent most of yesterday wandering around the swamp picking mushrooms," I say. "Now, look. You're in a real predicament here. People know Processus was murdered. They also know _you_ were the only one to have a real argument with him recently. Which means I can kill you without penalty and make money off of it."

"Are you threatening me, outlander?" Foryn says, dropping into a combat position and lifting his fists.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you looking to brawl for the sake of determining who is right, or actually trying to kill me?"

"I'm going to kill you!" Foryn says. "Just like I killed that fetcher tax collector!"

"You _punched_ him to death?" I wonder. "Seriously?"

"Do I look like I even own a weapon?" Foryn says.

"This is the most pathetic crime spree in the history of Tamriel, I'm sure," I say dryly. "Alright then, if you're actually dumb enough to try to kill me with your bare hands, I don't have to give you a fair fight."

I cast lightning at him, causing him to jump back at the shock.

"Fuck, you're a _mage_?" Foryn groans.

"You know, there was a reason I wasn't overly concerned about you," I say. "Come on, you tried to _punch_ me."

"And you barely zapped me," Foryn says. "Was that just a warning shot, or are you just toying with me?"

"Are you going to press it?" I ask.

"I'm going to kill you!" Foryn exclaims.

"Right, too dumb to live," I say. "Nice knowing you, Foryn."

Not feeling any particular need to hold back, I course lightning into him until he stops moving. Then I search his house to see if he was hiding anything of note, which he wasn't. In high spirits, I head out of the house back toward the lighthouse. I got to kill someone I can get away with, _and_ got to feel like I wasn't weak and pathetic after resetting. Sometimes, it's the little things.

"Thavere?" I say, coming back inside. "It was Foryn after all. He admitted to it right out. Here, he had this ring. Is that the one you mentioned?"

She takes the ring from me. "Oh, yes, this is it. Thank you. At least now I have something to remember him by. And what of Foryn?"

"I killed him," I say. "He tried to attack me when I confronted him."

"Justice has been served, then," Thavere says hollowly.

"That's all the comfort I can give, I'm afraid," I say.

"You've done more than enough," Thavere says.

"I'll leave you to mourn." I excuse myself and head back outside.

I'm probably not a very good person to be around when people are trying to mourn, I suppose. And I have a reward to collect for murdering a murderer.

"Ah, Lexen, you're back," says the Census and Excise man when I return. "Have you learned anything?"

"Foryn Gilnith killed the taxman," I say. "He gave me this huge rant about how corrupt your offices are and then he tried to attack me."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're alright. I believe you've earned this, then." He hands over a sizeable reward, much more than the amount of tax money I'd recovered in the first place.

"I don't know if he was corrupt or not, but that's hardly any excuse to murder someone," I say.

"I'm glad to see that you're settling in well here and doing some good. The Emperor's mercy wasn't wasted on you, then."

I shrug. "I do what I can. Now, I hear rumor there's some smugglers holed up nearby and people were complaining that the guards weren't doing anything about it."

"The guards are spread pretty thin and can't go off tromping off into the swamp after every lawbreaker, much as we wish they could. There's opportunity for you there to do what they can't, though."

"My thoughts exactly," I say.

So before leaving Seyda Neen, I locate the smuggler cave that the locals mentioned. Which is right across from the silt strider. How in Oblivion would this be tromping off into the swamp? It's _right there_. Oh well, more loot for me. Turns out the smugglers were not only smuggling moon sugar and skooma, but slaves as well.

"Can you free Khajiit?" says one slave plaintively.

"You better believe it," I say. " _Freedom for all beings!_ "

With a crack of thunder, the slave bracers on the three of them break and fall to the ground. Thanking me profusely, the former slaves quickly file out of the cave, leaving me to kill the remainder of the slaver scum inside and take their illegal goods for myself. I even head up the coast a little ways and find that tomb that magic ring someone mentioned got lost in. It's been a good day, and I feel like I've actually accomplished something, even if it was something small. It's enough. If anything, it's been a much-needed break.

And then Nine-Toes makes me swim most of the way back to Balmora. Damnit.


	20. Reunions

"I've been thinking about what you told me the other day," Caius says. "Thinking long and hard. And I do believe that it's imperative for you to stay undercover. However, this time travel ability of yours is too valuable _not_ to want to make use of."

"Agreed," I say. "Under normal circumstances, I can only go back a few hours at most, but that's generally more than enough to get multiple chances at a difficult situation."

"Or to gain information without actually gaining that information," Caius says.

"I'd like to point out, though, that every time it's used, the world in which I dies persists with me dead," I say.

Caius nods. "Not something for _me_ to want to use lightly, then."

"I try not to think too hard about leaving behind a string of doomed worlds," I say with a crooked grin. "But there's not much help for that. There's infinite worlds in infinite possibility, and I certainly can't save them all from everything bad that ever happens. Nor would I even if I could, honestly."

"I highly doubt that you're the only one who could possibly stop Dagoth Ur, prophecy or no," Caius says. "I'll leave that to your judgment."

It does make me wonder if I might not be able to persist in a world in which I died. Could the universe live with infinite mes? How do I know there aren't? I seem to recall doing that once, with the Nexus, but that still only involved one me. I'll have to look into it sometime, once I've got a better handle on things here. I've been adrift in a sea of time at the whim of my own power for too long, whipped around like a piece of flotsam. I ought to learn how to take control of it finally.

"Yeah, there's a reason why I normally don't tell anyone about it," I say. "Especially considering how it's burned me pretty badly before. If people know, they start aiming to stun rather than kill, and capture me."

"So, is that how you wound up in prison?" Caius wonders. "I'd imagine that if you could have stopped it, you wouldn't have let yourself be captured."

"I don't remember," I say.

"You don't remember why you were in prison?" Caius raises an eyebrow.

"Knowing me, I probably murdered someone," I say with a shrug. "But no, I honestly don't know. Annoying side effect of that power is that sometimes I wind up with amnesia. Pretty sure I've got a handle on that now, but not much help for what's already happened."

"I'd be pretty upset if I were in prison and couldn't remember why," Caius says.

I chuckle. "I'm used to it by now. I probably did something to deserve it. At this point, I don't care and it probably doesn't even matter. I mean, fuck, if I hadn't been shipped to Morrowind, I probably would have just broken out anyway. Probably killed a bunch of people on the way, too."

"You're that confident in your ability to break out of prison?" Caius wonders. "Just being a mage wouldn't always help. Sometimes they put bracers on mage prisoners that drain their magicka."

"Yeah, well, there's another little thing I neglected to mention. I'm perfectly capable of breaking those locks, and I don't need magicka to do it. I don't imagine they'd stop me. They'd have to gag me, too."

"I don't follow," Caius says.

"Maybe I should just give a little demonstration." I grin.

"By all means."

"You got any locks in the room?" I ask.

Caius gestures to a chest. "Go ahead and show me, just don't take my stuff."

I turn to the chest and shout one word. With a clatter, the lock opens and the lid pops up.

"What," Caius says flatly.

"I can use the Thu'um," I explain. "Instinctively. I'm actually a dragon. Well. Soul of a dragon. Whichever."

Or maybe I actually learned it at some point and don't remember. I guess from my perspective the difference doesn't really matter at this point.

Caius puts a hand to his forehead. "Just when I think you're done baffling me with revelations."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," I say, practically giggling.

"Dare I ask what _else_?" Caius wonders.

"Nothing that's honestly relevant at this juncture," I say. "I'm not exactly hiding anything, not from you. Just that I'm a world of complicated and I'd be here all month if I tried to explain just how."

"I'll take your word on that," Caius says. "At this point I'll believe anything. I've watched you change your age, shout open a box, and you've given me intel that it would have been impossible for you to get by any normal means. I independently confirmed some of the things you told me."

"I just wish I could remember what I did as Nerevar," I say.

"If you don't remember, are you certain that you are the Nerevarine?" Caius asks.

"Yep," I say. "My interactions with the Sixth House last loop confirmed that quite neatly. Not only did they address me as such, but they repeated back to me several phrases I'm fond of saying, and knew my inclinations and what to expect of me. It kind of screwed me over in the end."

"That's… probably not a good thing, then," Caius says. "Do you think they know about your time travel power?"

"I don't think so," I say. "If Dagoth Ur knew, he didn't tell his lieutenants. I feel like they would have acted differently toward me if they'd known." I pause, and think back to how Dagoth Gares knocked me unconscious when he cursed me with corprus. "Or he might. I'm not sure. I'm going to be paranoid and assume worst case scenario."

"Probably for the best," Caius says. "If he knows what you're capable of, it damned well means you need to avoid getting his attention until you're ready to do something about it."

"Noooo kidding," I say.

"The Emperor must have known somehow, too…" Caius muses.

"A question, if you would," I say. "If I should wind up going into another loop, is there something I could tell the you in that time that what I say is true? Some passcode or something? I could even memorize and deliver a coded message back to yourself."

"What about your memory problems?" Caius asks.

"Hasn't happened for a while," I say. "And I've learned some new techniques for helping retain memory and storing details. Which I probably don't use as much as I should."

"I'll come up with something," Caius says. "In the meantime, you'd best come up with a cover story and establish yourself in Vvardenfell."

"I was thinking of posing as a mage researching the Dwemer," I say.

Caius nods. "That's a good one, yeah. Alright. See to it."

* * *

After leaving Caius' house, I decide to stop by the South Wall Cornerclub for a drink. At the bar, I spot Sirius having a drink of mazte.

"Look who's here," Sirius says with a grin as I sit down next to him. "My old partner in crime."

I don't even remember if I've joined the Thieves Guild in this loop yet. It's already hard to keep loops straight. I don't think I did, though.

"He was another member of the Imperial City Thieves Guild?" Sugar-Lips Habasi asks, coming up to lean on the bar next to us.

"Something like that," I say. "If I'm not already a member of the one around here, can I join up?"

"Of course," Habasi says. "This one might have jobs for the two of you, if you're interested, as well."

"Maybe later," I say. "Sirius and I have some catching up to do. It's been a while."

"So what have you been up to lately, Lexen?" Sirius asks.

"Been hanging out at Tom's place, when I'm not otherwise busy," I say. "Let's head over there once we're done with our drinks. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you again."

"Oh, yes," Sirius says.

When I Recall with Sirius back to Tom's cave, it's empty. However, when we approach an otherwise inconspicuous archway at the far end of the cave, a swirling red portal shimmers into existence. We step through, and find ourselves in a small, round room. Hermione and Tom are inside, hard at work with magic, as is Kirlin. Hermione must have gone to pick her up from Ald'ruhn while I was out. Once they notice us arrive, they carefully finish up the bit they're working on and turn to us.

"Hey, love," Tom says with a reptilian grin.

"Good to see you again," Sirius says. "Where in the hell are we?"

"Hell," Tom replies lightly. "We've constructed a small pocket plane inside of Oblivion."

"Oh, right," Sirius says. "Was this the magic tent you said you were working on?"

Tom nods. "Once we've made sure this bubble is stable, we'll head out and create a portable key."

"Kind of cramped in here," Sirius says. "We won't be able to store much, never mind have enough beds."

"We're going to expand the place once we've got the anchor set up," Tom says.

"And we've decided to avoid sleep," I say.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Sirius winks. "But point taken. I haven't slept since the reset, either. I've been busy reconstructing the map we had before. Guess I'll be putting the main one in _this_ space, then."

"I was kind of worried about you guys," I say.

"We were worried about _you_ ," Sirius says. "I don't know what you were getting yourselves into."

"I didn't know, either," I say. "Actually, all things considered, I'm glad for the reset."

"I don't necessarily disagree with what Dagoth Ur is doing," Tom says. "But he's thinking small."

"He wants to take over the world," Kirlin says.

"Yes, exactly," Tom says. "He's missing the bigger picture."

"Taking over the world is honestly pretty lame," I say. "There's so many other worlds out there to see."

"We had an opportunity to learn, though," Hermione says. "I don't regret that."

"The Heart of Lorkhan is not the means to divinity I'd want to take, either," I say. "It seems awfully fragile to rely on something other than myself for that."

"You already can't die," Tom says. "Is that not a form of divinity in and of itself?"

I chuckle. "The hidden message in the Lessons of Vivec say he was not born a god. And yet I was?" I shake my head. "I'm no god. I'm just a man who doesn't stay dead."

"Do you _want_ to die?" Sirius wonders.

"Fuck no," I say. "Even that first time, I would have never accepted that as an outcome. I'm not sure that I ever had a concept of inevitability."

"Maybe it's not so much that death rejects you, but that you reject death," Tom says.

"Before I forget, Sirius, any chance you can teach me whatever spell it was you used to make names show up on the map?" I ask.

"Oh, that," Sirius says. "Naming Charm, it was called elseworld. I only got it working in this world late in the last loop. Wound up having to use Illusion magic for it. Took me a while to get it down because I'd been trying to use Mysticism for it, since that's the school of magic the normal creature detection spells fall under. Let's go do it in the cave outside and leave these three to their work."

We step out through the gate again and take a seat in the cave, and get to work on that.

"Have you run into anyone else yet?" Sirius asks.

I shake my head. "I haven't really gone out to meet up with them yet. We ought to get over and spring Rispy soon, though."

"Agreed," Sirius says. "Remus, Gellert, and Brax are probably already on their way here."

"Did you find Brax?" I ask.

Sirius nods. "I spent a lot of time working on my maps toward the end of the loop. I found him in Vivec. He'd been traveling all over Tamriel trying to find us, and only finally came to check Morrowind."

"Where did he Awaken?" I ask.

"Summerset Isles," Sirius says. "He's an Altmer. A damned high elf. Not that I should be surprised. They're all haughty purity-obsessed assholes."

"Damn, why did he wind up so far away from the rest of us?" I wonder.

"I guess the universe thinks he should be the last one to hook up with us," Sirius says with a shrug. "I won't pretend to know how this Awakening thing works."

"It tried to put us all into the universe in some way, rather than giving us new bodies when we got here," I muse. "But other times we traveled to other worlds, it _did_ give us new bodies. This might even be the first time _I've_ been put into an existing body, although I'm not convinced that body didn't start existing in prison and I was just kind of asleep."

"Not so much giving us new bodies but letting us keep the bodies we had," Sirius says. "Wasn't that what happened when the two of us visited Terrestia that first time? Are our other bodies back in Moonshadow, asleep, and we're just kind of dreaming this?"

I snort in amusement. "If this is all a dream, then why am I not a god?" I cast the spell again. Shimmering letters appear above Sirius' head and then break apart into glitter almost immediately. "I think I've got it this time. Well. It only lasted for a second. Are you sure this spell is visible only to me?"

"Yep, nobody else will see what you do," Sirius says. "It's just altering your own perception."

"I can cast it now, at least," I say. "It's going to take some practice to cast it reliably and keep it going. So naturally I'm just going to have to repeatedly cast it constantly."

"Yeah, that was why I wasn't using it much, and especially not in combat," Sirius says. "It was easier to bind it as an enchantment to an object like the map."

"Alright, I think I'm going to go spring Rispy," I say. "You want to come and watch my back in case I piss off any cliff racers along the way?"

"Sounds like a plan," Sirius says.

* * *

Sirius and I take a silt strider to Suran.

"Can we see the dancing girls while we're here?" Sirius asks.

I roll my eyes. "Fine, fine, let's go see the dancing girls."

We head into the Suran red light district, and Sirius goes over to ogle the dancing girls while I go to the bar to pick up some drinks.

A drunk at the bar looks over to me and slurs, "Fine place, isn't it? Enough to take your mind off your troubles." A quick naming spell reveals his name as Daric Bielle. This beats trying to get people to introduce themselves.

"Yeah," I agree insincerely. "What's troubling you?"

"Stupid slaves," Daric grumbles. "I'm a bounty hunter, see. Why do these slaves have to run and hide? It's annoying."

"Mm," I murmur noncommittally.

"There's this one in particular, name's Haj-Ei," Daric goes on. "Been looking for him for months and can't pin him down anywhere. No sign of him. I even hired a guide, name of Hides-His-Eyes. Been showing me around here, for all the good that's done."

I hide my smirk with my drink. Haj-Ei means Hides-His-Eyes in Jel. This fool probably doesn't even speak a word of Jel. Hiding in plain sight indeed.

"He prefers hanging out at the tradehouse across town, though," Daric rambles. "Guess those lizards can't appreciate good human skin, eh? Their females don't even _have_ boobs, you know. Have you ever looked? Some of them even stuff their shirts to make themselves look like proper human or elf women, but it's all a lie."

"Yes, terrible," I mumble. "Excuse me."

I go over to Sirius and deliver a shein to him. "I'm going out to explore town a bit."

I head over across town to locate the tradehouse Daric had mentioned, and go inside. Apparently this is the sort of place where skooma and pipes are just sitting out on the table upstairs in plain view. There are a few Argonians inside, so I just cast naming spells at all of them until one comes up Hides-His-Eyes.

"Are you Hides-His-Eyes?" I ask unnecessarily. "I'm Lexen Skywalker."

"Yes, that's me," the Argonian replies.

"Or Haj-Ei, I suppose I might say." I smirk.

"Ah," Hides-His-Eyes says. "So you've found me out. Yes, I'm Haj-Ei. I led that drunken fool on a merry chase around the countryside, and got paid well for it. So, what are you going to do? Turn me in?"

"Fuck no," I say. "I'm actually on the way to an egg mine where a Khajiit friend of mine is being held enslaved and planning to free all the slaves there. I just stopped here because my companion wanted to see the dancing girls."

"You're an abolitionist, then?" Hides-His-Eyes asks.

"You better believe it," I say. "I'm certainly not going to turn you in to Daric, but I'd advise cutting the ruse and getting away from him. It'll only be so much time before you run across someone else who speaks Jel."

"I find that doubtful," Hides-His-Eyes says. "But you may be right and that I should stop pushing my luck."

I head back out to collect Sirius and remind him that we did have things we intended to do today. We take another silt strider to Molag Mar, and proceed on foot water-walking toward the egg mine where Rispy is being a slave.

"We really need to figure out a way to teleport directly to places," Sirius grumbles.

"Agreed," I say. "We can experiment after we've got the 'tent' ready. Would rather not mess up whatever they're doing with repeated resets."

"Seems like most people don't even know how to _cast_ Recall or Intervention spells and just rely on scrolls," Sirius says. "Never thought I'd see a world where anyone can learn magic but most don't bother. It already almost struck me as weird that some people who went to Hogwarts barely bothered, either."

"We have a lot to learn," I say. "I wonder just how much time we would have if we avoided doing anything about Dagoth Ur at all, until we had to step in. I've heard rumors in town about how the blight storms have been increasing, and we saw for ourselves the Sixth House activity."

"Could be months, could be years," Sirius says with a shrug. "It's hard to say what would change that state. But how long would _you_ be willing to wait before doing something?"

"I'll vote that we delay doing anything about it and see how things play out," I say. "If we spent years researching and learning magic, it would still be time well-spent."

"I don't intend to spend years doing _nothing_ but studying," Sirius says.

"Well, yes." I grin at him. "You can take sex and booze breaks, too."

"I'm going to have to get back into the book stealing business," Sirius says. "I may wind up having to start venturing further afield for new material that Hermione hasn't already read yet. I swear she must have read most of the books in Vvardenfell by this point. So where was this place you said Rispy was at?"

"Abebaal Egg Mine," I say. "It's on one or another of these little islands out here."

Sirius holds up his map and peers at it for a bit. "Aha, I think a kwama just came into detection range. That's probably it."

We go over and head inside. The caverns are full of Khajiit and Argonian slaves, who look up at us expectantly as we walk through the tunnels. And there, casually sitting on a platform in the middle of the mine, Rispy grins at me with a familiar Khajiit face.

"Hey," Rispy says.

" _Freedom for all beings!_ " I shout. A shockwave washes through the cave. All around me, slave bracers break open and drop to the ground.

Rispy looks to the other former slaves. "I'm going with these two. Will the rest of you be alright, or should I get them to teleport you somewhere?"

"We'll be fine," says an Argonian, whom a naming spell identifies as Eleedal-Lei. He nods to me respectfully. "I was a sorcerer in Black Marsh, and now that my slave bracers are gone, I can regenerate my magicka again. Once we're rested and it's clear, I'll lead us safely out of here." Eleedal-Lei turns to Rispy. "Safe journeys to you as well, Rispy. I know you always wanted to be a warrior, an adventurer, and I wish you well on that."

I bid farewell to Eleedal-Lei. I put an arm around Rispy, and Recall to Tom's cave along with Sirius.

"You didn't waste much time in getting over there," Rispy says.

"I would have gotten there sooner, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it past the wildlife," I say. "I'm really fucking weak at the start of a loop."

"The wildlife didn't even bother us, though," Sirius says. "How is that? Usually I've had to blast at least a few cliff racers anywhere I go."

"Oh, right," I say. "Luna taught me how to get the wildlife to be less aggressive. It won't work on blighted creatures, but the healthy ones will sensibly leave you alone."

Sirius blinks. "You really need to teach me that one."

"So, fill me in," Rispy says. "What have I missed?"

"Our friends are in there building a magic tent." I gesture vaguely toward the empty gate.

"Right then," Rispy says.

"I'd best go lend a hand, myself." Sirius walks up to the arch. The gate flares to life, and he steps inside.

"How is that going to be at all subtle?" Rispy wonders. "I hope that will only activate for one of us."

"Yeah, Tom said he was going to key it to our collective soul signature or something, somehow," I say. "I can't wait to see the portable key he said he was going to make. In the meantime, I'm planning on getting a cover identity established. Thinking I'll head over to Sadrith Mora, join House Telvanni, and meet up with Luna."

"Do you want me to play slave while you're there, or do you have anything better to wear than these rags?" Rispy asks.

"Oh, right, sorry," I say. "I haven't really had a chance to collect a ton of crap yet, but one of the Blades gave me some old armor." I pick up and offer him the helmet.

Rispy looks at the helmet, looks back at me, then just gestures to his Khajiit ears.

"Right, those." I put the helmet back down. "I guess that would make it a bit hard."

"It's fine," Rispy says. "Nobody will pay attention to me like this, anyway. We can see about getting some better equipment later. It would be nice to meet up with Luna again, and she's probably waiting for us in Sadrith Mora."

"Yeah," I say. "Alright."

I teleport Rispy and I to Balmora via Almsivi Intervention, and from there use the Mages Guild to travel to Wolverine Hall, near Sadrith Mora. I wonder just why the Telvanni allowed the Imperials to build a fort near Sadrith Mora, although I have to imagine that they must have gotten something out of it. The services offered in Wolverine Hall are probably useful if nothing else.

Across the bridge, the architecture swiftly changes from Imperial stacked blocks to Telvanni fungal towers. I'd dearly love to learn how to grow those, sometime. They remind me distinctly of Terrestian Shaping magic, where even the doors were alive. And not like the physical 'improvements' offered by corprus. As I'm getting more perspective away from it, I'm starting to realize just how messed up I was at the time.

I ignore the Gateway Inn. I'm not going to bother buying and Hospitality Papers. I doubt anyone would even look at them anyway. Regardless, I'm heading straight for the council hall. I'm not just going to be here as a _guest_. Sitting out on the vine walkway leading up to the council hall, a blonde Bosmer girl kicks her bare feet over the water. She looks up as we approach, and smiles brightly.

"Hello, Luna," I say.

Luna hops off the walkway and casually levitates up to her feet. She opens her mouth to greet me, pauses, then just reaches over and hugs me tightly.

"You okay?" I ask, putting my arms around her.

She just nods silently.


	21. The Magic Yurt

I spend some time building my cover story. I visit the Mages Guilds in Vivec and Ald'ruhn and tell everyone that I'm researching the Dwemer. Archmage Trebonius again requests that I research the disappearance of the Dwemer, though I'm not sure that he actually cares all that much. I don't actually go into any Dwemer ruins just yet, though. That can wait until our tent is ready. Gellert and Remus turn up in the meantime as well.

And ready it is. I'll admit I'm impressed when Tom declares it ready and unveils it. Out on the beach near Hlormaren, an Ashlander-style yurt springs up like a mushroom. It even looks like a completely normal yurt inside.

"It's actually a tactile illusion," Sirius says proudly. "I spent a good bit of time in the last loop researching them."

"How does that work?" I wonder.

"Basically it combines the functionality of an illusion and a shield spell," Sirius explains. "It took quite a bit of practice to bind them closely enough to avoid clipping too badly. You'll still wind up sticking your head through the roof if you stand up wrong. I'm going to need to do a bit more work on it. It's too complicated to use much on the fly, though, and there's not much point to it anyway."

"I'm sure I can find a way to weaponize it," I comment.

"Note that you don't actually need to deploy the yurt," Tom says. "If you're trying to open the gate in an enclosed area, for instance, you can just unfold it and place it against a wall, and activate it. There won't be anything protecting the gate then, however, and it will be fairly obvious to anyone nearby what it is."

"Let's head inside so you can see the rest," Hermione says.

The gate itself is hidden behind a hanging cloth with the yurt deployed. We file through and into the atrium. There are three archways in the atrium now, the currently active one leading to the yurt, the inactive one presumably into the cave, and the third isn't a gate, but opens into the rest of the complex.

"How did you manage to acquire a pocket realm in Oblivion?" Remus wonders.

The interior looks like a mansion greatly resembling Caer Danas, my old Welsh manor. Although one gratuitous addition is that the main hall contains an enormous statue of a naked man with a large, erect cock, standing in an erotic position and holding aloft a tankard in one hand. Gellert nearly bumps into me as I stop and stare.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why is there a giant naked man in our main hall?" I ask, moving inside and stepping out of the way.

"It was part of our lease agreement," Tom says.

"It totally wasn't," Kirlin drawls. "It was Sirius' idea, although our landlord was thrilled about it."

"Who, exactly, is our landlord?" Remus asks.

"Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Hedonism," Tom replies. "He rules over the Myriad Realms of Revelry, and I use 'rules' in the loosest possible term, as he allows great leeway in each realm to the desires of its guests."

"He was actually quite friendly and accommodating," Hermione says.

"So, what, was he expecting us to use this place for regular bouts of sex and substance abuse?" I ask.

"I have absolutely no problem with this whatsoever." Gellert giggles.

"Nords shouldn't giggle," Hermione says, rolling her eyes.

"I don't think he cares what we actually use it for, although I'm certain that our typical proclivities helped in convincing him to allow us this space," Tom says with a smirk.

"Of course." I chuckle. "Is there more of this place?"

"On the right is the bar, recreation areas, and living quarters," Tom says, gesturing toward the appropriate exit. "On the left, the library, workshops, and storage areas. And straight ahead, the war room."

"Right past the giant naked statue of Sanguine," I comment.

"Yes," Tom says.

"I like it," Gellert comments.

"As a side note, if we ever want to actually sleep, it should be safe to do so here," Tom goes on. "It's highly unlikely that Dagoth Ur's nightmares should be able to reach us in Oblivion."

"Noted," I say. "Does this place have a name, or shall we come up with one?"

"Marauders Safehouse," Hermione suggests.

"Marauders Traveling Pleasure Palace," Sirius puts in.

"Whichever," I say.

"I'm afraid that, aside from the basic structure and furniture, it's fairly empty at the moment," Tom says.

"Our bar is woefully understocked," Sirius complains.

"I'm certain that we'll be able to remedy that quickly, however," Tom goes on. "As we relieve bandits of their ill-gotten goods and rob hapless towns blind."

"We have almost no books in the library," Hermione whines.

"It's okay," Sirius says brightly. "Collecting the stuff is half the fun."

"Let's see what's in the recreation areas." Gellert goes off down the right hand passage.

I wander in after him. Rather than a 'mess hall', or even a dining room, we seem to have a small bar and restaurant. Dartboards on one wall include an image of Cornelius Fudge, and a round gaming table sits off to one side.

"Needs a telly," Gellert says.

I raise an eyebrow. "What would a telly even receive out here?"

"Do we really need to introduce a Daedric Prince to the concept of television?" Remus asks, coming up behind us.

A hallway leads off the main corridor, containing enough bedrooms for everyone, assuming anyone winds up wanting to actually use them. At the end of the main corridor, an ornate doorway opens into an tiled room containing an indoor swimming pool, with a hot tub off to the right.

"We have a hot tub!?" Gellert exclaims, then throws his hands into the air. "I love you, Sanguine!"

* * *

Abraxas finally catches up to us in Balmora one day when we're stopping in for supplies and to sell some junk we really didn't want. I find the tall, golden Altmer in the Mages Guild, casually practicing spells. He stops and looks up at me when I come in.

"It's about time you got here," Abraxas says. "What in Oblivion have you been doing? Barhopping across Tamriel?"

"Close," I chuckle. "Good to see you again, too."

I lead him out to where I've set up the tent, on the north edge of town near the temple.

"That is our tent?" Abraxas asks. "And you just have it planted here right next to town?"

"If they have a problem with it, they can attempt to tell us to go away," I say. "And we'll just come back anyway. Because I give no fucks. If they didn't want yurts popping up on their lawns, they shouldn't have moved into Ashlander territory."

"Ashlanders?" Abraxas asks, then shakes his head. "I have quite a bit of catching up to do, it seems."

We step into the yurt, where Rispy is casually lounging on the cushions inside. With the lack of creepy Sleepers or other threats, he hasn't been sticking to me quite so fervently when in town. He waves to us as we head through the gate.

Abraxas gapes at the enormous naked statue. "Let me guess. Sanguine?"

"Bingo," I say.

"Why am I not surprised?" Abraxas drawls. "Where are the others?"

"In town, shopping, mostly, I think," I say, leading him down to the bar. "Make yourself at home, though."

"Yes, it is nice to actually have one again," Abraxas says, looking around as we go. "I did get to see a good deal of Tamriel in the previous loop, though. I have no complaint about leaving the Summerset Isles early in each loop. There is only so much whinging about the suffering of existence and the superiority of my race that I can handle. I got quite enough of that in the previous world."

"That does sound obnoxious," I say. "Fortunately, the local Dunmer have completely different annoyances. They're not overly fond of 'outlanders' like us, and most of them worship the Tribunal, three individuals who I knew in my previous life in this world who apparently gave themselves godhood using the heart of a dead god."

Abraxas puts his face in his palm. "Yes, I have definitely missed a lot. Okay, _who_ were you in your previous life?"

"A great Chimer general by the name of Nerevar," I reply. "It was a few thousand years ago. And the Tribunal Temple would attempt to kill me if they found out who I was."

"You lead the most interesting lives," Abraxas says. "What, exactly, caused that full reset, anyway?"

"That heart of a dead god that I mentioned," I say. "Messing with it seems to be bad."

"I could have told you that, and I have no idea what you are talking about," Abraxas says. "Obviously you are in dire need of having me around to insert some common sense into your plans."

Tom wanders out of the kitchen. "Ah, Abraxas? Good to see you here."

"Indeed," Abraxas says. "Are you responsible for the setup of this place?"

"A good portion of it, yes," Tom says. "Why?"

"What, exactly, did you have to agree to give Sanguine for it?" Abraxas asks. "I'm guessing this must be a part of his domain, considering the statue up front and that it's obviously in Oblivion."

"Nothing too onerous," Tom replies, shrugging casually. "Once he realized we were from another universe, we simply agreed to a cultural exchange. There are quite a number of various forms of entertainment from other universes that are unknown around here."

"By 'cultural exchange', do you mean that you invited a Daedric Prince to a game of strip poker?" Abraxas wonders.

"Possibly," Tom grouses.

"Right, I need to go report in with the spymaster and see if he's figured out a good message for me to take back in time to himself yet," I say. "I'll leave you to tour the place or whatever."

"I'll fill him in," Tom says.

I head back out into town and across the river to Caius' place. As he always seems to be when I go to see him, he's sitting topless in front of his table, and the whole place smells of skooma. I have to wonder how he actually gets any work done. He's way better at keeping anything resembling a cover than I am.

"Lexen," Caius says, nodding to me in greeting. "Anything to report? Have you been managing to establish a cover?"

"I think I am incredibly bad at anything resembling cover," I say lightly. "To be fair, I'd imagine that people would think I'm absolutely anything _but_ the Nerevarine? At least I haven't publicly declared my intention to murder a Telvanni councilor this time around. Although, I'll probably get around to murdering her at some point anyway."

"Cover just means hiding something you are," Caius says with a smirk. "Whatever you're doing, so long as you're not openly parading around what you're trying to hide, still counts as cover."

"True," I say. "Have you come up with any sort of message to send yourself, should I wind up going back in time again?"

"Depends," Caius says. "Are you capable of memorizing a lengthy, complex coded message letter for letter?"

I nod. "I know some memory techniques that would effectively let me seal a message in a packet in my mind."

"And can you add to that, as well?" Caius asks.

"Surely," I say.

"Alright," Caius says. "Get back to me in the morning and I'll have something for you."

It means I'll be in Balmora for another day, but that's alright. There's plenty to do around here. I bit him good day and head out. Over in the South Wall, a commotion downstairs turns out to be Sirius having a rowdy party.

"You're drunk, Sirius," I say. "You know it's not even noon yet, don't you?"

Sirius just laughs. "Like it matters? None of us are sleeping anyway."

"Unless you pass out drunk," I say. "Do try not to pass out."

"Yeah, yeah." Sirius waves me off. "Come on, I can hold my booze."

Over in the corner, Sugar-Lips Habasi is more sedately chilling out with a skooma pipe.

"Hey, Habasi," I say. "You got any jobs that don't involve booze?"

"Yes, there is something you can do for Habasi," the Khajiit replies. "Habasi wants the key to Nerano Manor."

"You know, I could just unlock that for you," I say. "I can unlock… probably literally anything."

"Habasi would prefer to go alone. And if you went there and unlocked it first, it may be locked again by the time Habasi gets there. Habasi would prefer to have the key on hand."

"Sure, you know where I can find it?" I ask.

"Ondeea Nerano would likely have a key," Habasi says. "She lives near Nalcarya's alchemy shop on the other side of town. Sovor Trandel is a servant and likely has a key as well. If he's not working, he's probably swilling away his money at the Council Club."

There are times that it doesn't occur to me that the people I gratuitously murder have names. Thoughtfully, I look around the room and cast quick naming spells over each person here. Phane Rielle, Chirranirr, Only-He-Stands-There, Gushak gro-Bugur, Tappius Esdrecus, Ma'virra, Arathor, Sottilde. And here I'd just keep thinking of the barkeep as 'barkeep'.

Well, I know someone who wants the people in the Council Club dead regardless. "I'll be back with that key for you, Habasi."

Over to Fort Moonmoth, where the Imperial Legion champion, Larrius Varro, greets me and introduces himself. "I have some work for you, if you're interested."

"What sort of work?" I ask unnecessarily.

Again he spins a nice little bedtime story to me about corruption in the local government and a little prayer for a bloodbath to wash away the bad people.

"Very cute," I drawl. "You know, if you want me to murder people for pay, you could just say so. It's not like I'm going to say no to the thought of removing a few bad people."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly pay you for it," Larrius says. "But I've got a nice little present for you that I might 'find' for you."

"Uh-huh," I say.

"Now, I don't know where you can find the bad people," Larrius says. "They're a group of local criminals called the Camonna Tong. Nobody wants to talk to an officer of the law. Against the thieves' code. But I'd imagine if _you_ were to ask the Thieves Guild where the Camonna Tong are, they'd tell you."

I never wound up actually using that ring for much, last time around. I just dumped it in storage and forgot about it. Maybe one of my friends got some use out of it.

"I don't need to ask," I say. "I know exactly who you're talking about and where they are. They hang out at the Council Club, glaring at any passing outlanders."

"Ah, very good," Larrius says.

"I'll be back once the bad people are good people again," I reply.

I cast a Mark in the bunk room where Larrius is, and head back into Balmora. Outside the Council Club, a Dunmer man named Dandmer Arano stands casually flipping a dagger in the air. He spits at his feet when I come by. Before starting any trouble, I cast a Magic Nap.

"Hey," I ask, "You with the Camonna Tong?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Dandmer retorts. "You got a problem with that, _n'wah_?"

I snort softly. "You think calling me an outlander in a language you probably don't even speak makes you special?" I switch to the old Dunmeris language. "So, tell me, can you understand a word I'm saying, or are you just talking out your ass?"

Dandmer stares at me and sputters, "Yes do I!"

I roll my eyes. "You are _pathetic_. I don't believe this. Even you have become so subsumed in Imperial culture that you don't even speak your own language properly anymore! That all you've retained is your curse words is just… sad, really."

"Who are you to say that to me, Breton?" Dandmer puts up his knife. "You want a fight, do you?"

It's a good thing I'm planning on killing him anyway, or my method of taunting him might give some clue as to who exactly I am. Although he'd probably be a little less pissed at me if I were another Dunmer. He stab his knife at me, which I barely duck. I don't need to beat him in a knife fight. I don't need to fight _fair_. As I make to punch at him, I cast a Bound Longsword. From the angle I conjure it, he has no time to dodge out of the way as it slices right into his gut.

If anyone saw that, they'd know perfectly well that it was in self-defense and he attacked me first, even though I clearly provoked him first. Still, I'd rather not just leave a body laying around in the street, plus I'd like to check him for loot once I'm done here. I open the door and drag the body inside.

"Someone murdered your friend!" I exclaim. "Right out there on the street! I can't believe it. Who would be so bold as to kill someone in broad daylight like that?"

The first Dunmer comes forward and leans down over the body. With him distracted, I slip around behind him and stab him in the back. So far so good. The group downstairs isn't so easily fooled, though. They draw weapons and file up the stairs to try to attack me en masse. I pour all my magicka into an overpowered lightning storm, hoping that it's enough to bring at least some of them down. But, it turns out they're weaker than what I'd become used to dealing with, and while one of them survives the storm somehow, I'm able to quickly cut him down with my Bound Sword.

With that done, I proceed to grab everything of value that they have. The key Habasi wanted, some of their clothes, all of their booze. It occurs to me after a moment that dragging all that booze across town might be difficult and also suspicious, or even just using Almsivi Intervention with it all, since I parked the yurt right near where the spell would drop me. I decide to leave everything be for now that would be obvious if I were carrying, and Intervention across town to the yurt.

"Hey, Rispy," I say, coming inside. "Can you step inside? I need to move this and am going to need a hand moving some stuff on the other side."

"Sure thing," Rispy says.

He gets up and enters the gate, and I deactivate the illusion and fold up the gate into my pack. Fortunately, no one appears to have discovered that something happened at the Council Club y the time I get back over there. I set up the gate in one of the rooms downstairs and go inside. Tom and Abraxas are also waiting in the atrium.

"Rispy said you needed a hand with something?" Tom says.

"Yeah," I say. "I just murdered a club full of people, and I'd like to loot the place."

"Ah, good," Tom says. "I've been in need of new zombies."

"Reanimating them wasn't the idea, but I don't care enough to argue," I comment.

Between the four of us, we drag everything worth taking inside, along with plenty of things that weren't really worth taking.

"I did not realize when I set it up just how useful this would be," Tom says as he drags the last body into the gate.

"I'd best take the gate back and set the yurt back up where it was before our friends wonder what happened to it," I say. "Although it is _completely_ not subtle how we're obviously not carrying around an actual yurt on our backs."

"I'm sure nobody will notice," Abraxas says dryly.

Once we're done, I cast Almsivi Intervention again and put the yurt back. I then return to the South Wall Cornerclub, and present the key to Habasi.

"Is this the key Habasi wanted?" the Khajiit asks.

"Probably," I say. "It was on Sovor's body, at least."

Her ears droop. "Habasi did not mean for you to kill him. You should be more careful in the future."

"He was Camonna Tong," I say with a shrug. "Besides, I had another job for someone else to clear out the Camonna Tong."

"The Thieves Guild is not in the business of murder," Habasi says.

"Are you going to expel me for this?" I ask.

"No," Habasi says. "You have not harmed any member of the Guild, and perhaps it is for the best, regardless. But Habasi hopes that they do not suspect that the Guild was involved in this."

"If anything, people are going to suspect the one who hired me to kill them was behind it," I say. "Do you have any other jobs for me, then? That I probably won't wind up murdering someone for?"

"There is something else you can do for Habasi. There is a smuggler named Ra'Zhid, in Hla Oad, who was supposed to deliver a shipment of Dwemer artifacts to the guild. He has not delivered them. Find out what happened and retrieve them if he won't hand them over. Please try to avoid killing him if at all possible. Ra'Zhid is no friend of Habasi, but Habasi does not wish him dead."

"Sure, I can do that," I say. "Hla Oad, eh?"

"Yes, it's a little fishing village on the coast," Habasi begins. "To get there—"

I hold up a hand to cut her off. "I know where it is."

I Recall back to Fort Moonmoth and appear in front of Larrius Varro again. "Alright, I'm back. You shouldn't have anymore trouble with your bad people. Your cheerful little story has a happy ending."

"And I just happen to have found this nice little present the Emperor sent you," Larrius says, handing over a ring.

"Why is the Emperor sending me presents, anyway?" I wonder as I pocket it.

"Perhaps he believed you would find it useful," Larrius says.

"I might," I say. "Anything else you need done?"

"If you were good enough to take out the Camonna Tong, perhaps you can help with another problem we've had lately," Larrius says.

"More bad people?" I ask.

"Possibly, but I only know of one bad person in question at the moment," Larrius says. "A Nord bandit by the name of Fjol has been robbing hapless travelers near Hla Oad lately. I'd appreciate if you could take care of it for me."

"I was planning on heading out to Hla Oad anyway," I say. "I'll look into it."

As I return to Balmora, I absently wonder if anyone _else_ is going to want me to visit that little smudge of swamp. I spot Remus come out of the Fighters Guild ahead of me.

"Hey," I say. "I didn't realize you were a member of the Fighters Guild."

Remus shrugs. "I figured I might as well sign up, since the Companions don't have a presence outside of Skyrim. They usually have simple jobs to beat people up for pay."

I pause thoughtfully. "I like beating people up for pay. Think I should join?"

"Couldn't hurt, I suppose," Remus says. "It's not like they're going to demand more of you than to follow rules you're going to ignore anyway."

"I don't suppose they asked you to do anything in Hla Oad by chance, did they?"

"No." Remus makes a face. "They had me kill rats."

"Rats," I say flatly.

"Yes, rats. Seriously. Like I'm some wet-behind-the-ears adventurer. Well, I killed them, at any rate. They were threatening to tear apart pillows."

"Pillows?"

"Yes, _pillows_ ," Remus says, rolling his eyes and sighing. "There's this odd lady who has a house full of pillows, and rats had gotten in somehow and she was afraid they'd ruin her pillows."

"Right then," I say. "It takes all sorts, I guess. I hope they at least paid you for it."

"The Guilds are generally good about making sure you're paid for jobs, although it wasn't much in this case. Since it was just rats, after all. I would imagine that if I could not handle a few rats, they would be unlikely to give me any other jobs, but it was still insulting."

"Do you get free stuff there like you get from the Mages Guild?" I ask. "Potions or anything?"

"Yep," Remus says.

"I'm signing up."

I step inside and Remus points me to the woman I need to talk to, a Nord by the name of Eydis Fire-Eye. She looks at me dubiously, as I still look like a stick, but apparently they have zero standards and she lets me in.

"My friend Rem here says you had him killing rats," I say. "Do you have any other jobs, or are you fresh out of rats?"

"I have another job, but I doubt you can handle it," Eydis says. "Maybe if you hide behind your orcish friend."

Remus snickers. "Just give it to us. I'm sure we can handle it."

"I have reports of egg poachers in the Shulk Egg Mine," Eydis says. "That's just south of town. Head there and get the details, and take care of it."

"Egg poachers," I repeat. "Okay then. And you couldn't just say 'egg thieves', because there wouldn't be a pun involved then?"

Eydis looks at me blankly.

"Does nobody cook poached eggs around here?" I wonder.

"What are you talking about?" Eydis asks.

"Never mind my friend, he's weird." Remus hooks an arm around my elbow and practically drags me outside.

"I guess it wasn't a very funny pun," I say as we make our way out of town.

We get the names of the egg poachers from the miners outside, and go in to look for them. It turns out to be pretty easy to find and identify them, since they're the ones who stupidly attack us on sight. We report back our success to Eydis, and she rewards us with some gold and potions.

"You did adequately on that, you two," Eydis says. "I've got another job for you. There's some Telvanni agents who have been causing trouble near the Caldera ebony mine. They've been spying on the area, and are responsible for lost ebony, missing guards, and escaped slaves."

"Uh, no," I say.

"Are you refusing your orders?" Eydis says.

"I don't _have_ to take any of your jobs, you know," I say. "And I'm a member of House Telvanni."

"Are you loyal to House Telvanni, or to the Fighters Guild?" Eydis demands.

"House Telvanni," I say lightly. "I'm just here for gold and potions. I wasn't aware you demanded 'loyalty'."

Remus clears his throat. "What my friend means is that he is uncomfortable taking a job against his House."

Eydis scowls. "From my understanding, House Telvanni won't care if you kill their members, anyway."

"I'm still not doing it," I say.

"They're more closely affiliated with the Thieves Guild than House Telvanni, regardless," Eydis says. "Are you a member of the Thieves Guild? They'll only expel you if the deaths are reported, and they're not going to get reported, now are they?"

"I'm not taking the job."

"This isn't actually a Thieves Guild job, though," Eydis says. "They're not acting under the Thieves Guild's protection."

"Find some other patsy," I say. "Unless you've got more rats for me to kill, I'm out of here."

"They're dirty thieves!" Eydis insists, getting red in the face.

"I don't care," I say. "Fuck off."

I turn on my heel and head out the door, Remus close behind me.

"Am I going to get expelled for _that_?" I ask.

"Probably not," Remus says. "Contrary to what she, and some others, might claim, you're not required to do any of the jobs a faction wants you to do. And you didn't actually attack her. It's hard to get expelled from a faction unless you actually steal from or attack them."

"Except the Telvanni, who don't care," I say with a snicker. "Which also means that I don't care what _they're_ doing. They can rob the place blind and free all the slaves if they like."

* * *

"Alright, here's a message for you," Caius says, passing over a piece of paper. "You'll need to memorize that letter by letter or it's ruined."

"And then burn the paper afterward and eat the ashes?" I ask.

"That's probably not necessary, but if it makes you feel better…" Caius says with a smirk. "This message will be useless to anyone other than my past self. Give it to me in addition to the package from the Emperor."

I read over the message and seal it into a memory packet, and nod. "Done." I set the paper on fire.

"Go on and get out of here," Caius says. "I have work to do, and I'm sure you do, too. I don't think we need to be seen together for a while. Get your cover established, whatever that cover winds up being, and if you learn anything notable, report it to me. If I need you, I'll contact you. From the sounds of things, you won't be hard to find."


	22. Smugglers and Thieves

"So, we're going to Hla Oad?" Tom asks. "I believe I shall spend the visit inside the palace, then. They might still remember me as the necromancer of Shal."

"Shal?" I wonder.

"My cave _does_ have a name," Tom says. "It's not just named 'necromancer's cave'."

"I hadn't really thought of that," I say. "Can I get a Recall there? I'd set my Mark in Fort Moonmoth just to avoid walking out there again."

"Fair enough," Tom says. "I believe I shall keep my Mark there, just in case, so the rest of you can put Marks wherever else might be convenient."

"If we're going to put off putting together the propylon network, that's probably for the best," I say.

"Most of it should be fine," Sirius says. "It was just Telasero that was a real pain in the ass. I've already grabbed a few of the indexes just because I was in the area."

"Indices," I say.

"Whatever," Sirius says.

With the gate packed up and everyone accounted for, we Recall to the cave apparently named Shal. Tom steps into the palace, and Rispy, Luna, Gellert, and Abraxas come out to travel with me.

"Is having five people walking around really going to be subtle?" I wonder.

"We're an adventuring party," Rispy says. "People are going to take one look at us and assume we're an adventuring party."

"Guess so," I say.

"Ugh, does Tom's cave really need to open out into a puddle of algae-filled water?" Abraxas grumbles as we step outside.

"I'd imagine the point of it was not to be found," I say.

"Does Morrowind really hate necromancers that much, or did he do something else to warrant their unwelcome attention?" Abraxas asks.

"Both, I believe," I say.

"What a backwards place," Abraxas says.

"You don't know the half of it," Gellert says.

We head out along the coast, cross a bridge, then when we come to a second bridge, spot a dot on our map who looks to be laying in wait for travelers. The name next to the dot reads 'Fjol'.

"There's the guy I was hired to deal with," I say quietly, pointing to the dot. "Shall we?"

As we approach, the Nord hides behind a tree. Not well enough, though. Apparently we don't just look like hapless travelers. We could have been a little more subtle about this if we were wanting him to come out and get overconfident. No matter.

"You might as well come on out," I call over to him. "I know you're there."

Fjol emerges from behind the tree and says, "How do I know you're not bandits?"

"Because we're not demanding your money," I say. "Although we'll be happy to take it anyway off your corpse." I grin wickedly at him.

Fjol turns to run and stumbles into an algae-filled pool. Between a few spells and an arrow, he's quickly laying still face down in the pool, too.

"Well, that takes care of that," I say.

"Did we really need to kill him in a muddy puddle?" Abraxas gripes. "Now his belongings are going to be disgusting."

"I can teach you a cleaning spell if you don't know one already," I say brightly.

Not far along the muddy path sits the little fishing village that would probably have fallen into the swamp by now if most of its houses weren't elevated on poles. Also a cliff racer attacks us for no reason right in town and a passing guard does nothing to help, so that's annoying, too.

"Ugh, what _was_ that thing?" Abraxas says, toeing the corpse of the large bat-like creature.

"Cliff racer," I say. "You get used to them. They're all over Morrowind. Sometimes you can't go ten feet without one of them swooping in at you."

"Swooping is bad," Abraxas grumbles.

"I'll have to show you how to avoid drawing their attention," Luna says.

"All you're really doing is exuding an aura of calming animals, aren't you," I say.

"It _usually_ works," Luna says. "I'm not sure what this one's problem was."

"Let's head for the local inn and see if we can dig up some gossip," I say.

Hla Oad has wooden walkways rather than streets, and the inn lies at the end of one of these near a boat docked at a lower pier. The boat is actually bigger than the inn, which barely holds all of us. There's only two beds in this tiny, cramped place, and one table with two seats in front of it. The Argonian proprietor, Wet-Tail, looks almost shocked to be getting this many customers.

"Welcome. I'm Wet-Tail. Can I get you something to eat or drink? Please, pull up a crate. Sorry I don't have enough stools."

"Sujamma," Rispy says.

"What brings adventurers out to this quiet little spot in the swamp?" Wet-Tail asks.

"Eh, we were hired to deal with some bandits on the road," I say. "We took care of it, alright."

"I heard about that," Wet-Tail says. "People were uneasy about leaving town by the north road. But there's nothing along that road, except for Gnaar Mok, and that's a fair ways off."

"So, what's the word on the street?" I ask. "Or, well, boardwalk, I guess."

"Ugh, I hear the situation has been escalating between the Camonna Tong and the Thieves Guild," Wet-Tail says. "I hope they don't drag the rest of us into this. It was inevitable, I suppose. The Camonna Tong don't like outlanders encroaching on their turf."

"What a mess," I say. "They been getting into anything around here?"

"I can't say for sure," Wet-Tail says. "The Camonna Tong almost certainly have a presence along the Bitter Coast somewhere."

"Hmm, I don't really want to deal with them, but I'll kill them if I have to," I say.

"Don't let any of them hear you say that," Wet-Tail says. "I'm not going to tell them, of course. They're not fond of us 'filthy lizards', either. But let me tell you, if you're with the Thieves Guild, watch your back. Mark my word, it will be bloody."

"I'm with the Mages Guild, actually," I say smoothly. "I'm a Dwemer researcher. I'm interested in getting my hands on some artifacts, but it's a pain in the ass sometimes." I gesture vaguely toward Rispy with my tankard. "Or tail, I suppose."

"Yes, you've probably heard about the smuggling that goes on around here," Wet-Tail says. "I hear Ra'Zhid, over at Fatleg's Drop Off, has been looking for a buyer. Maybe he's gotten his paws on something you'd be interested in."

"I'll have to go ask him, then," I say. "Thanks."

We finish our drinks and head outside.

"You guys should wait outside, or split up and explore town," I say quietly. "See if you spot anything suspicious. Don't want to spook Ra'Zhid."

I locate the building in question and cast a quick Magic Nap before I head inside. I don't expect this to be a serious problem, but who knows? In addition to the Redguard shopkeeper, Trasteve, sure enough, a Khajiit named Ra'Zhid is inside. I approach the Khajiit.

"Hey," I say. "I'm Lexen Skywalker. Are you Ra'Zhid?"

"This one is Ra'Zhid," the Khajiit replies. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, I hear you might be able to help me," I say. "You see, I'm a Dwemer researcher, and I've been having some difficulty in getting my hands on artifacts for my research."

The Khajiit shakes his head. "Ra'Zhid cannot help you."

"Damn," I say. "I was hoping a clever Khajiit such as yourself could have succeeded where I have failed."

"Ra'Zhid has gotten no Dwemer artifacts delivered yet."

"Oh well," I say. "Can you let me know when you get some in, or shall I find some other handsome Khajiit to purchase them from?"

"Ra'Zhid does not know when they might arrive."

"Guess I'll have to find another source, then," I say. "Thanks anyway."

I make a show of casually walking away to see if he'll change his mind and call me back, but he doesn't. I wonder just where Ra'Zhid is keeping the artifacts. There's a trapdoor in the corner of the building. Maybe they're down there. When nobody is looking, I open it up and climb down. What I see is a small cavern rather than simply a basement, full of Dunmer with sour expressions, and one female Khajiit named Rabinna.

I approach one man standing near the Khajiit, by the name of Relam Arinith. "Quite an operation you have going here."

"Yep," Relam says. "You better believe it, outlander. You looking for something?"

"Are you Relam Arinith?" I ask, taking a guess, "Camonna Tong?"

"That's me," Relam says. "You one of the new smugglers?"

"Yep," I bluff. "Got anything for me?"

"Good, I need someone to deliver this slave for me," Relam says, gesturing to the Khajiit. "Take her to Vorar Helas in Balmora, and you'll be paid for your efforts." He gives a disturbing grin. "Rabinna here might not look like much, but it's what's inside that matters, am I right?"

"I'll get her where she needs to go," I promise.

I lead Rabinna back up the ladder and outside of Fatleg's Drop Off.

Rispy is standing outside, casually keeping watch leaning against the wall by the door. "New friend?"

I nod to him. "Her name's Rabinna."

"Friend?" Rabinna repeats.

"I just agreed to deliver you to get them safely out of their hands," I say. "I believe in freedom for all beings, and I'm not going to stand for anyone to be enslaved."

"This one did not hope for escape," Rabinna says quietly. "They forced Rabinna to swallow wrapped bags of moon sugar. Vorar Helas will surely simply cut this one open to get them out."

"Fuck," I utter. "No, we're not taking you to Vorar Helas. In fact, I'm going to pay him a little visit in a bit to gut _him_. Luna? Luna!" I wave her over from where she's standing at the water. "Luna, can you get Rabinna here somewhere safe?"

"The Argonian Mission in Ebonheart," Rabinna interjects abruptly. "I hear they help escaped slaves."

"I'll get her there. We can take a boat," Luna says, then smiles at Rabinna. "Don't worry. It'll be okay."

I call over the others. "Come on. We need to murder some slavers."

I head back inside of Fatleg's Drop Off along with Rispy, Gellert, and Abraxas. The shopkeeper seems to be very deliberately trying not to notice us climbing down the trapdoor into the basement.

"You're back?" Relam says. "Who's this? Where's the slave?"

" _Relam Arinith_ ," I growl. "You _scum_ give even slavers a bad name. This is inexcusable. This is indefensible. This is unforgivable!"

"You fetchers are abolitionists?" Relam says, taking a step back and drawing a blade. "I should have known."

"The days of the Camonna Tong are numbered." I conjure my Bound Longsword. "I swear to Azura I will see to it that every last one of you is destroyed."

I surround myself in lightning and charge in with my sword, and I'm quickly joined by fire from Gellert, ice from Abraxas, and arrows from Rispy. After a brief and bloody fight, the Camonna Tong in the basement cavern have all been slain, and we proceed to loot the place for what it's worth. And I don't find any sign of Dwemer artifacts down here. I guess Ra'Zhid must be keeping them somewhere else.

"Nice going using Time magic to slow them down," Abraxas says. "Or speed us up. Whichever."

"Time Magic?" I ask dumbly. "I wasn't— Well, I wasn't _trying_ to use Time Magic there."

"You were probably using it subconsciously to make up for being so weak and slow." Gellert chuckles.

"Hmm, interesting," I say. "I mean, I'd known it was theoretically possible, and even likely that I could do that, and have in the past. When I fell into a lightsaber stance, and could meet every blow as it came in, even to the point of being able to block incoming ranged attacks. I don't remember ever using it _consciously_ , though."

"Bound Sword is a lot like a lightsaber," Gellert says.

"It is," I say. "And I've probably been using my own variant of Juyo form still. And that works best when I'm focused and _angry_. And I was damned well angry back there. I can tolerate slavery as far as working to bring it down without walking into a town and slaughtering everyone involved in it. I won't tolerate… _that_. People throwing away the lives of slaves for the sake of smuggling a bit of moon sugar. Fuck."

Gellert puts a hand on my shoulder. "You're shaking, love."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "Yeah."

I wait a few minutes until I've calmed down a little, and then climb up the ladder again. Ra'Zhid and Trasteve, the shopkeeper, look over to us in alarm.

"What in Oblivion?" Trasteve, says. "You're covered in blood!"

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to get your floor dirty." I cast a quick cleaning spell.

"You killed them?" Trasteve says. "I'm calling the guards!"

"Were you with them?" I ask, conjuring my Bound Sword again. "Surely you knew about what was going on in your basement. And _you_." I turn to Ra'Zhid. "Were you holding out on the Thieves Guild because you've secretly cut deals with the Camonna Tong on the side?"

The two of them back up when they see that Gellert and Abraxas have blocked both exits from the building.

"You don't know who you're messing with!" Ra'Zhid says.

"This is not something you want to be involved in," I say. "Stick to smuggling, and _don't_ get in bed with the fuckers who think the lives of your kind are worth nothing more than a sack of fur. How ignorant were you really? Did you sell out your own kind for the promise of coin?"

"Lexen," Rispy says quietly from behind me. "I don't think he realized what was really going on down there."

I let out a heavy breath. "Alright. Ra'Zhid. Trasteve. You're not Dunmer and may or may not have made deals with the Camonna Tong, but I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here. You don't want to be here. You don't want to get involved. I'm going to destroy the Camonna Tong. I'm going to kill anyone that's been knowingly working with them."

"Divines, where did this grudge come from?" Trasteve says. "Was what they were doing that bad?"

" _They forced a Khajiit to swallow wrapped moon sugar and planned to gut her to get them back,_ " I scream.

That silences both of them.

"Well, shit," Trasteve mutters.

"Ra'Zhid knew nothing of this."

I nod. "I'll believe you. You saw nothing. Go outside and forget you saw us."

Abraxas steps away from the back door to let them out, and the two of them leave quickly. I release my Bound Sword and start searching the room.

"They better not make me regret letting them go," I mumble.

"What are you looking for?" Abraxas asks. "Or are you just robbing the place?"

"The Dwemer artifacts Ra'Zhid was supposed to have," I say, opening one of the chests. "Aha! Here they are. He was totally lying about not having them. And I'd even offered to just _buy_ them off of him. Idiot. It's not making me feel very confident that he really wasn't dealing with the Camonna Tong."

"I doubt he knew what they'd done to Rabinna," Rispy says.

"I don't suppose anyone's got a Mark in the South Wall Cornerclub?" I ask.

"Sirius probably does," Gellert says.

"We shouldn't be too far from the tent, but I'd rather not attract the attention of any of the guards, just in case," I say. "Rispy, can you sneak over to the tent and tap Sirius? And make sure everyone's accounted for and bring the yurt. I don't want to come back to this place anytime soon."

Rispy nods and heads outside. I take a moment waiting for Sirius to get over here to poke through the shop some more.

"Are you robbing the place after all?" Abraxas asks.

"I don't think Trasteve was _completely_ ignorant of the Camonna Tong being here," I say. "Just _what_ they were doing. I'm not robbing him. I'm _taxing_ him. The 'quit working with assholes' tax."

" _We're_ assholes, though," Gellert points out.

"Yeah, but we're the good guys," I say. "Kind of. I think. Relatively speaking."

Sirius comes into the building alone and unfolds the gate. "You know, this is easier than grabbing someone to Recall with them."

"That's a good point, but I don't know if I want to cross town, or to set up the gate inside of the South Wall," I say.

"You being lazy or paranoid?" Sirius asks. "It's not like anyone in Balmora is going to have heard of you murdering people again just yet."

"And those two _may_ have been too terrified to report us," Gellert adds.

"I'd rather not take any chances," I say.

"Suit yourself." Sirius ushers Gellert and Abraxas inside, folds up the gate again, and Recalls with me.

* * *

After briefly speaking to the barkeep to make sure any legal trouble is dealt with if it arises, I hand over the Dwemer artifacts I'd taken from Ra'Zhid's chest to Sugar-Lips Habasi.

"These the ones you were looking for?" I ask.

"Yes, very good," Habasi says. "You are a good friend to Habasi. And Habasi has something for you as well." She hands over some tools. "Did you kill him?"

I snicker. "Believe me, I was sorely tempted, after I found out he was very likely cutting deals with the Camonna Tong, but no. I just scared him a bit and let him go. Coming out covered in the blood of the Camonna Tong probably helped in scaring him a bit…"

"You have been killing Camonna Tong again? Habasi is not sorry to hear that they are gone, but hopes that this will not escalate into war between them and the Thieves Guild."

"They forced a Khajiit to swallow wrapped moon sugar and they were going to gut her to get it back," I say, in less of a scream this time.

Habasi's eyes widen. "They are cruel, brutish thugs."

"I'm going to kill any of them I run across, regardless of whatever trouble I wind up in for it," I say.

"If you wind up with the law out for you, the Guild can take care of it," Habasi says. "But for murder, that will be expensive. Try not to get caught, or bring back plenty of money."

"How much to get away with murder?" I ask.

"Five hundred drakes," Habasi says.

"Is that all?"

"And if they attack you first, it is not murder," Habasi says.

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "I sent a friend to take care of that former slave and get her to safety. Hopefully she can get the help she needs."

Habasi nods. "This one hopes so as well."

I cock my head at her. "Are you sure you don't have some dark secret? You're too nice for Balmora."

"Habasi will take this as a compliment." Her whiskers twitch in amusement.

"Seriously, you've got to be the best guild leader in town," I say. "I've dealt with Ranis and Eydis, and they're both bitches."

After helping Ajira with collecting alchemical samples, Ranis had wanted me to go shake down a mage for guild dues, and force a Telvanni hermit to join the guild. I'd been slightly more polite toward her than I had been to Eydis, but not much. Why do people keep thinking giving me jobs to screw with my own House is a good idea?

"You joined the Fighters Guild as well?" Habasi asks.

I shrug. "I took a few jobs for extra gold. I've collected a lot of mushrooms and flowers for Ajira. But Eydis wanted me to kill some Thieves Guild members in Caldera, so I told her to go fuck herself."

"Habasi is glad to hear that. Habasi thinks that if you wish to continue taking jobs for the Mages and Fighters Guilds, you might try Ald'ruhn or Sadrith Mora instead."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "I may head for Ald'ruhn next. I like Edwinna. Is there a Thieves Guild branch presence there? I haven't spent much time there."

Habasi nods. "You can find them in the club named the Rat in the Pot. Look for a Bosmer called Aengoth the Jeweler."

Out there in a cave near Ald'ruhn, a young Ashlander by the name of Hannat Zainsubani is being tormented by Dreamers and ash creatures while I'm messing around here. How many more that I don't know about might be lost while I do nothing? I force it out of my mind. I am not in a position where I can deal with the Sixth House yet. And even if I were, I would not be able to prevent anything bad from happening to anyone in the multiverse. I need to avoid attracting Dagoth Ur's attention, most importantly right now.

I go over and collect Sirius, and Recall us to Fort Moonmoth in front of Larrius Varro. Sirius look at me in surprise when we arrive.

"Hey," I say. "Larrius? Er, sir? Sorry, what exactly is your rank, anyway?"

"My rank is 'Champion'," Larrius replies. "You can address me as 'general' or 'sir' if you like, but you're not officially part of my chain of command, so call me what you like."

"Right, maybe it's for the best that I don't sign on with the Imperial Legion," I say, chuckling.

"That's your choice," Larrius says. "You can still do things as a mercenary that the Legion can't. And who's your friend?"

"Sirius Nigellus, at your service," Sirius says.

"Did you have any luck tracking down the outlaw I mentioned?" Larrius asks.

I nod. "We took care of him."

"Case in point," Larrius says, pulling out some gold to hand us. "I can't send a detachment to scour the swamp, much as I might like to."

"I also ran across another Camonna Tong operation and took care of _that_ ," I say. "They were some very, very bad people. The Camonna Tong are trying to smuggle illicit substances inside of slaves' bodies. I would hope this was an isolated incident, but I fear that it probably wasn't. You may want to keep an eye out for that."

Larrius scowls. "Thanks for the tip."

"Tell me more about this corruption you mentioned," I drawl. "How deep does it run?"

"There's just rumors, and no real proof," Larrius says.

"Then tell me another little story," I say with a smirk.

Larrius chuckles, nods, and goes into telling me all about the rumors of connections between House Hlaalu and the Camonna Tong, as if I were a small child getting ready to be tucked in. It's more amusing than insulting, really.

I wasn't really planning on taking down a Great House when I woke up on that prison ship, and if I were to do so, House Hlaalu was not the one I would have expected right off the bat. But I knew something smelled off about them, even from what little I'd interacted with them. The fact that they're the ones secretly using slaves in Caldera doesn't help their case, either. I might not like the slavery some of the Telvanni engage in, but they keep it out on the open. The way the Hlaalu hide it makes it seem like they're ashamed of something and perhaps are hiding more than just that. I don't trust this at all.

"You know, Lexen," Sirius says quietly once we're outside. "I had to wonder about why you Recalled us to an Imperial garrison. But I like that guy."

"I'm going to need to do some more digging," I mumble. "And tear them out by the roots if I have to."

"So much for establishing a nice cover as a mere Dwemer researcher," Sirius says lightly.

"But there are _bad people_ to stab!"


	23. Infiltration

"So, I have it out for the Camonna Tong," I say, leaning back in my chair and taking a drink.

"We've noticed," Tom comments.

The common area in our new headquarters is taking some getting used to, but it's growing on me, although I can't be sure that it looks exactly the same as it did last time I was in here. It's a nicer area than we had in Hlormaren, although we'd done our best to make that place our own. This place, on the other hand, is tailored to our own specific needs and desires, and it shows. And it seems like Tom knew exactly the sort of feel and decor that I would like, too. The carpet is a rich, emerald green, as is the surface of the gaming table. Along the top of the wall next to the ceiling, little brass dragons fly about in different postures.

"They seem to have ties to House Hlaalu," I go on. "I don't know how extensive, and I think I would like to find out. So… anyone want to play infiltration?"

"That's a thought," Tom muses.

"True," Remus says. "Some of us weren't planning on joining a Great House to begin with."

"I'll do it," Sirius says. "Calling dibs on House Hlaalu. Maybe I'll find something redeemable about them. Or maybe I'll dig up enough dirt on them to bring them down. Who's calling House Redoran?"

"I'll team up with you on that," Remus says.

"What is House Redoran like?" Abraxas wonders.

"Stuffy, obsessed with honor, but generally okay people," Kirlin says. "I'll take them on if you come with me, Abraxas." She grins at him.

"Fine," Abraxas says reluctantly.

"Why don't we hit up all the other miscellaneous factions while we're at it, in fact?" Sirius suggests. "I know some of us are members of the Thieves, Mages, and Fighters Guilds. What else is there? The Imperial Legion?"

"I'm a member of the Tribunal Temple," Kirlin says. "Don't forget the Imperial Cult, too."

"Religion isn't really the forethought in my mind," Sirius says.

Luna says brightly, "I'll join the Imperial Cult."

"I wouldn't terribly mind joining the Imperial Legion," I say. "I wouldn't normally want to join up with them _seriously_ or anything, but if we're trying to get a presence into the various factions…"

"Can't let you do that alone, then," Gellert says. "I'm sure they won't mind a big, burly Nord with no apparent axe until he pulls it out of his ass."

"Technically you're pulling it out of Oblivion," Tom comments.

"Oblivion is full of various pieces of equipment just waiting to be pulled out?" Gellert wonders.

"Well, no," Tom says. "You're summoning a daedra and binding it into the shape of a piece of equipment."

Gellert stares at him for a moment. "That is completely awesome."

"Us repeatedly casting one-second bound weapon spells to practice must be incredibly annoying to some scamp somewhere," Sirius comments.

Luna finishes her glass of lemonade, that I'm not quite sure where we even got, and hops to her feet. "I'm going to go join the Imperial Cult now. Anyone with me?"

"Sure, why not," I say. "I guess I don't mind the Divines. Well. I'm admittedly not entirely certain that I'm not somehow Akatosh due to a ton of time fuckery, but never mind that."

Sirius snorts in amusement. "You could probably convince Tamriel that you _are_."

"Provided you ever figured out how to turn into a dragon again," Tom adds.

"Well, someone once told me I could sell sand to a Jawa." I snicker.

Luna and I head out of the yurt. We'd set it up just outside of Fort Moonmoth, near the spot where Divine Intervention would place me if cast near here. Which, had I realized sooner, could have spared me bothering to put my Mark down in Larrius Varro's room. Sirius and Remus exit after us, and cast Almsivi Intervention to teleport to Balmora so that they can join House Hlaalu.

The Imperial Cult shrine in Fort Moonmoth is in a room off to one side with a lovely altar covered in a red cloth, adorned with candles. They're perfectly happy to let us join for a small donation, which I hope actually winds up going to help the poor and needy and not buy a round of booze for everyone at the shrine. Actually, no, never mind that, I don't care. They can all get drunk if they like. We return to the yurt afterward.

"So long as we're attempting to infiltrate every single group on Vvardenfell, is there anything else we're missing?" I ask.

"Let's not even mention the Camonna Tong," Kirlin says. "They don't take outlanders, and I'm the only one of us who isn't an outlander, and I refuse to even try to get in."

"Can't blame you there," I say.

"There's also the Morag Tong, though," Kirlin says.

"Morag Tong?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow, mentally translating it into 'Forester's Guild'. "I haven't noticed a lot of forests on Vvardenfell. Unless they've been doing their job _really_ well."

"It's… a euphemism, I think," Kirlin says. "They're an honorable and traditional guild of assassins."

I blink. "Well. I guess it makes sense that someone has to pay people to kill people and someone else has to be willing to kill people for pay, but what's honorable and traditional about it?"

"The Great Houses use the Morag Tong to conduct their wars to avoid getting civilians involved too much," Kirlin says. "They're completely legal."

"I… actually, I can really appreciate that," I say. "Entirely for the sake of completeness, how would one join them?"

"No idea," Kirlin says.

"I'll keep it in mind, though," I say.

Sirius and Remus return shortly. "Ye gods, would you believe what the first mission House Hlaalu gave us is? Apparently my voice sounds a lot like some Felsen Sethandus bloke who died recently. They asked me to go to Ald'ruhn under disguise. We were going there anyway, weren't we?"

"Sounds good to me," I say, smirking. "House Hlaalu is sounding like a fine, upright house."

* * *

After taking the Mages Guild guide to Ald'ruhn, I set up the yurt just outside town and let my friends out. We split up amidst the giant-shell buildings. Sirius heads in first, for his impersonation mission, pulling on the convenient all-concealing helmet he'd been given for his disguise. Kirlin goes to the Temple, Remus to the Fighters Guild, while Hermione and I make for the Mages Guild.

Edwinna Elbert, the local guild steward, looks mildly annoyed as we approach her. "Yes, what is it?"

"Sorry for interrupting your reading," Hermione says. "Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Edwinna replies. "I've heard that Sirilonwe in the Mages Guild in Vivec has acquired a copy of the book _Chimarvamidium_. I believe it deals with some sort of Dwemer golem."

Hermione shakes her head. "No, I've read that book. It's not actually about a Dwemer construct at all. It was about a warrior who pretended to be a golem in order to fool his enemies into relying on him in battle and then betraying them."

"Oh, bother," Edwinna says. "Thank you for telling me. You've saved me time and potentially embarrassment. Are you scholars of the Dwemer as well, then? Ah, Lexen, yes, I believe I spoke with you briefly before."

I nod. "I'm actually probably the closest thing to an expert you'll find to the Dwemer language, as well. So if you ever need anything translated, let me know."

"I shall certainly keep that in mind," Edwinna says. "For the moment, though, I could use some more Dwemer materials to study. In particular, a Dwemer tube. They should not be hard to find. I believe I saw some in Arkngthunch-Sturdumz last time I was there, but you can probably find them in any Dwemer ruin."

"Hmm, that would be 'Hope of the People-Underground Clan Dwelling'," I muse. "Alright, no problem. We'll bring some materials back for you next time we visit a Dwemer ruin."

I leave Hermione in the Mages Guild and head down the street, glancing about for the Rat in the Pot. It's not too far from the Mages Guild. I go over and head inside.

I didn't expect there to be actual rats scurrying about inside. I jump in surprise and raise my hands, preparing to attack, before a big Khajiit stops me.

"Whoa there, don't hurt the rats. Dro'Tasarr tried to eat one once, but they're pets of the proprietors."

"Oh," I say, lowering hands and feeling a little foolish. The rats seem very friendly and don't seem to be attacking anyone, at any rate. I go in to get a drink at the bar, and ask for any advice or rumors they'll tell me.

"Be careful if you go up into the Ashlands," says Dro'Tasarr. "Corprus is a terrible disease that turns men into beasts. You might catch it if you get too close to those creatures."

"Thanks for the warning," I say.

"There's been an awful lot of smuggling going on around here lately," the barkeep grumbles. "Ebony, Dwemer artifacts, moon sugar, and I don't even know what. They have supply lines running up and down the coast, and stop in here from time to time, speaking in hushed voices and thinking they're being subtle about it. But you didn't hear that from me. Let me tell you, I've seen some odd business going on in here lately. People have been trying to sell these strange red figurines. What's up with that, even?"

"Is it the Camonna Tong?" I wonder.

"Sometimes, I think," the barkeep replies. "They don't really wear name tags, but it wouldn't surprise me at all. Why the Camonna Tong would come in here is anyone's guess."

"Yeah, I wouldn't have expected them to loiter around a Thieves Guild pub," I say.

"They usually hang out at that Council Club across town," the barkeep asks. "Bet they only come here to meet with outside contacts they don't want to know they're with the Camonna Tong. You with the Guild?"

I nod. "Sugar-Lips Habasi sent me."

"If you're looking for jobs, you'll need to see Aengoth the Jeweler," the barkeep says. "He's downstairs."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Sirius come into the building and pull off his helmet.

"Hey, Sirius," I say. "How'd the job go?"

"Perfect, I think," Sirius says. "Probably."

I finish up my drink and the two of us head downstairs. Aengoth is a blond Bosmer with a forked beard.

"'Aengoth the Jeweler', I presume?" I ask as I approach him.

"That's me," Aengoth says. "Looking to join the Thieves Guild?"

"We're already members," I say with a smirk. "And I'm just going to comment again on how incredibly subtle we apparently are around here?"

"Well, it's worked so far," Aengoth says. "I've got jobs for you if you're interested."

"Hit me," I say.

"I'm looking to acquire a Devil Tanto from Anarenen in the Guild of Mages," Aengoth says. "I hear the Mages Guild has been left unguarded and my sources say they'll be gone for a while."

I look at him incredibly. "I just walked out of there, and the place is full of people. You need better sources."

"Oh, shit," Aengoth mumbles. "I wasn't trying to set you up, I swear."

"Look," I say. "I'm also a member of the Mages Guild. And even if weren't, it's a public building and people go in and out of there all the time for spell training and using the Guild Guide."

"So, you willing to take a job against your fellow mages, then?" Aengoth asks.

"Of course," I say. "I'm just there for discounts and work for pay."

"Fair enough," Aengoth says.

"I'll pop in there and swipe it while nobody's looking and be back in a moment," I say.

I head back down the street to the Mages Guild and casually stroll inside as if I have every right to be there. Because I'm a member of the Mages Guild and it's a public building anyway.

I didn't bother to ask who Anarenen is, and just cast naming spells over everyone in the room. As it turns out, it's the Altmer alchemist standing off in an alcove. Several pieces of alchemy equipment whose purpose I cannot fathom adorn the shelves, as well as a number of samples of various ingredients laying out on pieces of paper, and several small chests. The tanto must be in one of those.

Considering Anarenen is standing directly in front of the chests, I wouldn't be able to slip past him to rob him without some sort of invisibility spell. This might have been easier if Aengoth's information was accurate and the place _had_ been emptied out. By what? The entire Mages Guild deciding to go on a field trip at once, even the Guild Guides? I really hope he takes a long, hard look into the veracity of his sources.

I go over to where Hermione is sitting at a table reading, lean close and whisper into her ear, "Distract the alchemist."

Hermione doesn't even bother stopping to ask why. She gets up and goes over to Anarenen. "Excuse me. I'm Hermione. Can you help me with something?"

"Anarenen," the alchemist introduces himself.

"I've been working on a new potion, involving an emulsification of shalk resin mixed with steeped cliff racer plumes," Hermione says. "When I add coda flower nectar, though, a terrible smell emerges from the mixture, and that's before I even get to the kagouti blood."

"Oh, I see what you're trying to do here," Anarenen says. "Let's take a look at your notes."

The two of them head over to one of the tables in the main room, leaving the alchemy room unattended. I slip in, glancing about surreptitiously to make sure no one is looking in this direction. The only one in sight is Edwinna, and she has her back turned to me and her eyes firmly fixed in a book.

"If you replace the coda nectar with trama root extract, it may eliminate the foul odor," Anarenen is saying.

"Won't that negate the enhanced speed effect?" Hermione asks.

I stand back in the corner and whisper two words, and all five boxes in front of me click open. Hopefully no one heard that. As impressive and dramatic as it might be, I _really_ don't think it's necessary to literally shout these words every time. I start rifling through the alchemy supplies.

"No, not without anything else to drain speed as well," Anarenen says. "Remember, each ingredient's effect can only come into play when it's mixed with an ingredient that causes a similar effect."

"Hmm, but in that case, I think the shalk resin might interact poorly with the kagouti blood," Hermione muses.

Finally I find the weapon, in a box on the top shelf rather than the ones at the bottom that I was looking in. I didn't touch any of Anarenen's other items, the pearls and sload soap or anything else. If only his weapon is missing, maybe he'll think he simply misplaced it rather than that it was stolen. I tuck it away into my pack before anyone notices.

"I think you may be right about that," Anarenen says. "The enhanced speed effect is liable to leave the imbiber understandably exhausted."

"But if I were to replace the shalk resin with moon sugar…" Hermione says.

"Tsk, Hermione, you know that stuff is illegal," Anarenen chides her gently.

"It would enable the potion to work without any deleterious effects, though," Hermione argues.

"It's tempting to consider illicit sources of alchemical effects, I know," Anarenen. "I may have dabbled a time or two myself when I was young, but that was centuries ago now. Remember that while it seems harmless, not all effects of alchemy are obvious. Your swift flight potion will just have to be exhausting to use."

Hermione sighs. "I wonder how expensive it would be to import wisp stalk caps from Cyrodiil…"

Nonchalantly, I head back up the stairs and out onto the streets again. An ash storm had rolled in while I was inside, and I cough for a moment before I can get a bubble-head spell up. I don't really mind having to use this spell, now that I know it, but I can't understand why not only doesn't everyone know it, but why it's not even a standard spell available for sale here. If I ever need to make a lot of money fast, I should just offer spell training and overcharge wealthy nobles who fancy themselves mages. It's no wonder all the guards wear those all-concealing helmets that I would hope must filter out airborne pollutants.

I go down and hand over the stolen blade to Aengoth the Jeweler. "As promised."

"Excellent!" Aengoth takes the weapon from me. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble."

"No trouble," I say. "I had an accomplice distract him."

"I apologize again about the mixup," Aengoth says. "You can be certain that I will not be relying on that particular source in the future."

I graciously incline my head toward him, and head back out along with Sirius.

"Ugh, you could have mentioned there was an ash storm going on out here," Sirius complains loudly.

"Sorry," I say.

"Why does anyone even _live_ in a place like this?" Sirius wonders. "The Ashlanders have an excuse in that they had no choice, but why would anyone have squabbled with them over _this_ shitty spot of land? Just let them have it…"

"You didn't mention they were a warrior house," Abraxas says grumpily when we come back into the yurt.

"Is that a problem?" I ask.

"The _problem_ is that they would expect me to learn to use weapons and armor should I join," Abraxas says. "I am not going to do that for a ruse for the sake of infiltrating a house I did not wish to join anyway. Who are are the mages around here? Surely one of these Great Houses appreciates magic, they're elves after all."

"That would be House Telvanni," I say. "My house."

"Fine, then I will join House Telvanni," Abraxas says.

"Is anyone willing to join Redoran, then?" I ask.

Rispy snorts softly. "I will, if nobody else will." He goes to head out of the yurt.

"Well, on the bright side, I found out where the local Camonna Tong hang out," I say. "I want to delve into their activities around here and find out who is connected with them before I gruesomely slaughter them all, though."

* * *

"House Redoran wants me to kill some mudcrabs," Rispy grumbles. "I'm going to regret volunteering for this."

"At least it wasn't rats," Remus says with a smirk.

"What do these people do if there's no peons around to get to do the muck jobs?" I wonder.

"I would imagine that they don't get done," Gellert says. "The nobles are probably too busy being self-important, and the guards are too busy guarding everything but what actually needs guarding."

"The local Fighters Guild didn't even have any jobs for me," Remus says. "You should have come with me, Lexen."

"I was kind of leery after how I bitched out Eydis," I say.

Remus chuckles. "I spoke with the former guildmaster, Percius Mercius."

"Percius Mercius?" Gellert repeats.

"Yes," Remus says.

"Stendarr's balls, that's seriously his name?" Gellert says.

"Yes." Remus smirks.

"Imperials…" Gellert snickers.

Remus chuckles. "At any rate, he told me that the guild had fallen under questionable leadership and to look out for Eydis and some of the others. He said that Hrundi in Sadrith Mora is a good man and trustworthy, though."

"Hmm," I hmm.

"Either way, we'll probably need to head for Vivec or Sadrith Mora for Fighters Guild jobs," Remus says. "Seeing as Eydis isn't going to want to speak to us now, never mind give us any other jobs."

"Alright, I'm going to go kill some mudcrabs," Rispy says. "I really don't think I need backup on this one but whoever is welcome to tag along if you really want to. I suppose it'd be convenient to have someone along who can teleport."

"I'll go," Luna says brightly.

Sirius says, "Well, I'm going to break into the homes of every noble in Ald'ruhn, swipe everything they have of value, and see what dirty secrets they're hiding. Have fun."

As for me, I head back into town to see what sort of rumors I can dig up and to case out the Camonna Tong. Affairs going between the Redoran council members, uninteresting aside from potential blackmail material. A few of the local shopkeepers are offering work — to locate someone named Ienas Sarandas and get him to repay money owed for goods he'd purchased. They suspect he has gambling debts and may not be able to pay.

After a bit of searching, I find Ienas' house — well, crab dwelling — and go inside to find a finely-dressed Dunmer man. A quick naming spell identifies him as the man I'm looking for.

"Ienas Sarandas?" I ask.

"Yes, that's me," Ienas says. "Let me guess, you're here about my overdue payments?"

"You seem to have racked up a bit of debt," I say.

"I'm afraid I can't pay at the moment," Ienas says. "But I have some prospects underway that will most likely get me enough to cover them."

"I'm sure you do," I say. "With a clever application of talents and persistence, it should not be hard to make enough money to cover it."

"Look, I have no money to give you," Ienas says.

"Tell you what, Ienas," I say. "I'll pay off your debts, but you'll owe me a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Ienas asks.

"See, I'm looking to take down the Camonna Tong—"

Before I can even finish the sentence, Ienas is stripping his shirt off. "Here. You can take these goods back to the merchants." He hands me a number of items and lists where each one was from.

"Suit yourself," I say.

Once I've returned the various items to the appropriate merchants, I go over and check out the Council Club. After Balmora, I'd been expecting a building full of Dunmer glaring at me in hatred from the minute I walk in the door. That is not what I find at all. While most of the people inside are indeed Dunmer, they don't seem to be particularly hostile toward me, and there's even a Khajiit hanging around.

I sidle up to the bar to get a drink. "Nice place you've got here. I'll have a greef."

"New in town?" the barkeep says, passing over my drink.

"Yeah, just passing through on business," I say. "Not sure how long I'll be around."

"What sort of business, or is that the sort of business I shouldn't ask questions about?" The barkeep grins.

"Probably the latter." I smirk, and lower my voice. "I was told the Camonna Tong hang out here?"

The barkeep makes a face. "Yeah, sometimes. Wish the Guild would do something about it. I don't like them hanging out here, but I can't make them leave. They're nasty sorts."

"I'm with the Guild, and I've been looking into it," I say. "Habasi doesn't like me killing people and hopes it doesn't escalate, but I say, sometimes people just need to be killed."

"I agree completely," the barkeep says. "Just keep me out of it. If you're going after the Camonna Tong, watch your back. They say Orvas Dren is the real power behind them."

"Orvas Dren?" I ask.

The barkeep nods. "Duke Vedam Dren's brother. A high-ranking Hlaalu."

"Ugh, I don't like that House Hlaalu is mixed up in all this," I mumble.

"You Hlaalu?" the barkeep asks.

"Fuck no," I say. "I'm Telvanni. The Hlaalu make me _itch_."

I chat with the Khajiit about smuggling business, and ask about these red statues I've heard mentioned, but he doesn't know anything. I have a lengthy chat about various subjects with a very knowledgeable Dunmer in the corner, who nonetheless doesn't know much that I haven't already figured out. I still press him for details in order to fill in any gaps and see if there's anything he knows that I don't. I also hear that some Ashlanders are holding a Redoran noble hostage, but no one is sure who it is.

As it's starting to grow late, I head back outside to the yurt.

A guard spots me approaching the yurt and says, "Is that your yurt?"

"Yeah," I say.

"You shouldn't camp this close to the town walls," the guard tells me.

"Hey, Vvardenfell is Ashlander territory," I say. "I can put my yurt wherever I want."

"You're no Ashlander, Breton," the guard says. "And they need to keep their tents away from the walls, too. Camp out in open territory or rent a room at an inn like everyone else."

"It's my right to camp wherever I choose," I say. "If the Houses don't like that, they shouldn't have moved into Vvardenfell."

"Look, just move your yurt a little further away from the walls," the guard says. "Or I'm going to have to fine you for unauthorized camping."

Remus emerges from the yurt. "Are you getting into trouble again, Lexen?"

"Oh, I'm just having a nice discussion about traditional land rights," I say lightly.

"You're outlanders," the guard says. "You don't _have_ traditional land rights." The guard leans forward to touch the yurt, and while one part seems solid, his hand slips and goes right through. "What _is_ this?"

Remus goes back into the yurt.

I snicker. "Yeah, it's not actually a yurt. It's just an illusion of a yurt. One which I need to get the shield around it fixed, clearly."

"I'm sure illusionary yurts still fall under illegal camping," the guard says.

"Oh, but we're not actually sleeping _in_ the yurt," I say. "We're sleeping in the pocket dimension of Oblivion that can be reached through the gate inside the yurt."

"What," the guard says.

I step inside the yurt and disable the illusion, revealing the gate. "Are there regulations for setting up portable Oblivion gates?"

The guard puts his face in his palm. "No, but I'm sure this has to be against _some_ law."

Tom emerges from the gate and sighs. "I see I'm going to need to make some adjustments." He casts a spell at the guard. "We have a permit for camping here."

"You have a permit for camping here," the guard repeats flatly.

"You don't need to bother us again," Tom says.

"I don't need to bother you again," the guard says.

"You should get back to your post now," Tom says.

"I should get back to my post now," the guard says, then walks off.

Tom goes over and reactivates the illusion of the yurt. "When Sirius gets back, I'll have him add a note to the illusion that claims we're allowed to camp in town."


	24. Glimpse the Sun

"Why are you so obsessed with the Camonna Tong, anyway?" Abraxas wonders. "They seem to be despicable scum, but I don't see how they're in any way relevant to anything."

"Because they're a problem I feel like I can do something about." I lean back in my seat and take another drink of my shein. "I don't know how to deal with gods. Assholes I can just kill."

"What did you steal from the alchemist, anyway?" Hermione asks, glancing up from her food, for once without a book at hand.

"A dagger," I say. "Thieves Guild contact wanted it for some reason. No idea why. I didn't ask. Did he notice?"

"He noticed all his boxes were unlocked," Hermione says.

"Oops." I look innocently at the ceiling.

"You really ought to learn a locking spell to cover your tracks," Sirius says.

"But, he didn't notice anything missing, at least," Hermione says. "He thought he'd just forgotten to lock them. No real thief would just leave behind gemstones, after all."

"You left behind gemstones?" Sirius says. "I'm _so_ going to need to rob that place next."

"Hermione, doesn't stealing from the Mages Guild bother you?" Kirlin asks.

"I don't see why it should," Hermione says. "It's not like any of this really matters, after all. I'm sure Lexen was just trying to ingratiate himself with the Thieves Guild in order to maintain his cover and gain information. If we failed to steal the dagger without being noticed, we could always just reset and try it again."

"That's a tad more cavalier with time travel than I'd be comfortable with," I say.

Hermione sighs. "This again? Reset as many times as necessary to do what you want to do. It doesn't matter. Why do we keep having to discuss this?"

I hold up my hands in surrender. "I'm not going to start an argument about it again. Forget I said anything."

"Sooner or later, something has to break," Tom says quietly.

Once we're finished eating and Hermione has returned to the library, Tom pulls me aside into what looks like a meditation room of some sort. I didn't even know this palace _had_ a meditation room. It's serene and quiet inside, with plush emerald green cushions, and lit only by dim candles. Tom takes a seat on one of the cushions, and gestures to me to sit across from him.

"Has she been acting strange to you too?" I ask, lowering myself onto the cushion.

Tom nods. "Ever since the reset, yes. She's been more callous and ruthless. Almost to the level I'd expect of, well, _me_."

"Do you think our activities toward the end of the loop had anything to do with it?" I wonder. "I haven't noticed anything strange about the others, aside from Luna being a little more serious than usual, but then we were only at it for a few weeks."

Tom goes quiet for a long moment before saying, "Lexen. You were away for over a year."

I sputter, "What!?"

"You're a Time Mage," Tom says. "Were you so far gone that you didn't even notice?"

I groan. "You can't be serious."

"Kirlin and Gellert have far more years of experience behind them than Hermione," Tom says. "And I suspect Luna has now spent more time as a Bosmer than she has as a human. Hermione, though, was young in both worlds. She's the one most likely to be affected strongly by new experiences. Whether that's for good or ill, it's hardly my place to judge."

"I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the thought that I spent a year working for Dagoth Ur and didn't realize it," I say.

"And you say you didn't think it was a mistake," Tom says.

"I'm starting to reconsider that," I say. "And I'm _damned_ well going to avoid contact with the Sixth House. I don't want to tell Hassour that I could have saved his son but didn't, but I don't want to risk it."

"I don't think we're here to save every possible timeline," Tom says. "Let it be. We need to learn."

"Yeah," I say. "And I need to take the opportunity to learn more about my Time Magic."

"Then take it," Tom says. "That's much more important than tracking down some petty criminal gang."

"Everyone needs a hobby?" I say.

Tom smirks. "You are going to practice your Time Magic. Where would you like to begin?"

I chuckle. "First off, I'd like to see if I can reset without dying."

"Dying is pretty trivial, but not needing to rely on that shortcut is the first step toward control," Tom says. "Do you think you can do it?"

"I _know_ I can do it," I say. "I have before, but the circumstances were weird and it wasn't intentional."

"I would say that, in order to actually learn how to control your Time powers, you will need to first learn to accept that this does include an infinite number of alternate universes, and that you need not stress yourself over saving them all. In fact, it may well be that Dagoth Ur would have _never_ been a threat without your interference."

"I'm not sure that I can believe he would not have eventually been able to complete Akulakhan anyway," I say. "But fine. If that's the mental block I need to overcome, then I will do so."

"I was your mentor once," Tom says. "I pushed you to overcome your own faults. I will do so again if I must."

"I won't argue," I say.

"Now, cast your Magic Nap," Tom says.

I nod, and cast the spell.

Tom pulls a purple crystal out of his robes and sets it off to the side. "Go ahead. You'll know if you succeeded by the lack of a soul gem sitting on the floor. Focus on the thought of release from your body, without actually harming yourself."

"Wait," I say. " _You_ know how to do this?"

"I know how to do it the Soul Magic way," Tom says. "But I don't expect it's all that different. By all means, though, experiment and find what works for you. As with anything, I would imagine that there is more than one path to the goal."

"Releasing my soul from my body would still be a form of killing myself, wouldn't it?"

Tom tilts his head. "That may be true. Still, attempt this exercise, if you would. If you can get it down, it may be a step closer, at least."

"Very well," I say.

I close my eyes and center myself. All around me, I feel the movements of the celestial bodies. The sun, the two moons, the planets. They feel _odd_ in this universe, compared to Earth, but they're certainly there. It could be considered a form of relaxation just feeling Time around me.

I am, of course, not nearly as well acquainted with Soul Magic as Tom is, but I'd like to think I'm not a complete stranger to it, either. I haven't gone through all these spells and rituals without picking up a working knowledge of it. But I'm very relaxed right now, and it seems like it would be as simple as—

* * *

—letting go.

I open my eyes. The soul gem is gone, and a reptilian grin spreads across Tom's face.

"I did not expect you to get it so quickly," Tom says.

"I'm…" I pause. "Actually, I'm kind of surprised, too. It just… seemed so simple."

Tom puts the soul gem on the floor. "Do it again."

"What? Why? I already did it once."

"You have to be able to do it reliably," Tom says. "As with any skill, you have to be able to use it without having to stop and think about it."

"I suppose," I say.

"I disparage Dagoth Ur for being unable to see the bigger picture," Tom says. "You would be wise not to fall into the same trap."

I sigh. "Alright, alright, I get it."

I close my eyes again and reach out with my senses. Sun, moons, planets, stars. At least, what appear to be 'stars', but are decidedly _not_ stars in any way that I would have known them. Constellations slowly crawl by around Nirn. One of them, wandering about the sky, seems to be made of stars that are somehow different from the others.

"Are you having problems?" Tom asks. "You managed it so quickly last time."

I shake my head and open my eyes. "No, I'm just looking at something _much_ more interesting."

"What do you see?" Tom asks.

" _The stars are not stars_ ," I exclaim.

"Pardon?"

I take in a deep breath. "You know how I can always tell what the time and date is?"

"Yes," Tom says. "A simple ' _Tempus_ ' charm would have been what we'd use on Earth, though I haven't seen a local equivalent yet."

"The charm very likely just detects the positions of the heavenly bodies and interprets the result in a readable manner. I don't need a charm to sense the heavenly bodies. And they are not like the ones I'm used to."

Tom puts a reptilian hand on my shoulder. "Lexen, you're hyperventilating."

"Fuck my hyperventilating," I say. "The sun is supposed to be a mass of incandescent gas."

"I'd say that it's more of a miasma of incandescent plasma," Tom says.

"My point is, the sun here is neither," I say. "What the actual fuck."

"Then what is it?" Tom wonders, frowning.

"I'm… not sure," I say.

"This world does not really follow the same rules as the others we have experienced," Tom says. "Aside from you, if you could remember them, especially given that you have apparently been here before."

"How can the sun—"

"Lexen," Tom says firmly, putting both hands on my shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself. You can't lose it at everything you see outside of your experience."

"Yeah," I murmur.

"Now, listen," Tom says. "Remember what we've discussed about belief? A realm is shaped by belief. Consensus in this realm dictates that the world be shaped as you have just seen it. If you attempt to reject that consensus—"

"Pretty sure I've already rejected it," I say.

"Well." Tom pulls back to center himself on his own cushion, tail wrapping around himself. "I was not expecting to discuss cosmology today, but I suppose I should know better than to expect anything around you."

"I can't believe I've been in this world as long as I have without really looking at it," I say.

Tom tilts his head. "To be fair, we're in Oblivion and it may have been easier to get a good look at it from here. I am uncertain as to what, precisely, you are doing when you do that. I would not have expected Time Magic to be attuned to space as well."

"People keep time by the movement in space," I say uncertainly.

"Perhaps it simply never occurred to you that you shouldn't be able to," Tom says with a touch of amusement.

"Ugh." I stand up and pace across the room. "All this talk of belief makes no sense. It didn't make any sense before, either, but at least there the world seemed more— I don't know, firm? And if the world is simply shaped by belief, then…"

"This is no different than our travels in the Ethereal," Tom says. "Remember the City of the Moon, where day was night and night was day?"

"That kind of hurt my head, too," I say. "The sky looked _wrong_ there. And if I don't believe something should be a certain way, then why _is_ it that way?"

"Because your belief is not the only one that matters," Tom says. "So long as we're in this universe, we have to play by this universe's rules. And by this universe's rules, most of the things we knew are not true. We had to relearn magic."

"I'm going to stop worrying so much about Dagoth Ur now," I say flatly.

"Ah, I'm glad you're finally getting over that," Tom says.

"Because if I don't believe this world is real, that means I don't believe he's real, either," I say.

Tom snorts in amusement. "Suit yourself."

"There is one solution to this." I head for the door.

"Where are you going?" Tom asks.

"Rat in the Pot," I reply. "I am in dire need of sujamma."

* * *

Rispy and Luna finally wander back into the yurt, looking none the worse for wear.

"Where have you been?" Kirlin asks. "It's been three days! We were about to send out a search party for you."

"Would you believe we got lost?" Rispy grumbles, ears twitching.

"Yeah, yeah I would." I smirk.

"First we wandered around for hours trying to find the farm in question, and believe me, the directions I was given were _terrible_ ," Rispy says.

"They always seem to be," I say.

"Then the farmer lady sent us off to kill these hostile mudcrabs," Rispy goes on. "But she wanted these _specific_ mudcrabs dead, and had us go off to find the remains of the dead guar they'd dragged off. Which, of course, was half-buried in the mud in the swamp. We killed every mudcrab even remotely nearby anyway."

"How were you supposed to know _which_ mudcrabs to kill?" I wonder. "And that any other mudcrabs might not also attack her guars?"

"Beats me," Rispy says. "At any rate, once we'd killed the mudcrabs… then we had to find her farm again. It would have helped had it even been visible from any road, but no. Lady lives in the brush with her guars."

"Best not to ask too closely about that," Gellert puts in.

Rispy continues, "And then, when we told her we'd killed the mudcrabs, she thanked us and gave us some hackle-lo leaves and suggested chewing them."

"Chewing hackle-lo leaves?" I raise an eyebrow. "Haven't tried that yet. Are they good?"

"Dunno, I didn't bother," Rispy says.

"They're probably better used for alchemy, anyway," Tom says with a shrug.

"And then," Rispy rants, "And _then_ , when I got back to the Redoran council hall to report on my success? _They didn't even pay me!_ "

"Now that's just rude," I say.

"Apparently, House Redoran is the place to be if you want to be poor," Sirius comments.

"And, you know, there's one downside to not sleeping," Rispy says. "We've been wandering around the swamps and brush nonstop for three days except to eat and drink. I'm beat." He grabs a sujamma and takes a hearty swig.

"It was an excellent opportunity to examine the behavior of mudcrabs," Luna says brightly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll just stab any we run across," Rispy says.

"I'm sure there's a spell that could mitigate the need for food and drink, too," Tom muses.

"We should look into having more than one magic yurt we can set up," Luna says. "This one works nicely, but we don't always stick together."

"I could probably add additional gateways readily enough, I suppose," Tom says.

"You just need to set them up in every town," Sirius says with a smirk. "Save us walking, riding a silt strider or boat, or paying for a teleport."

Tom snorts softly. "Each additional gateway does become increasingly non-trivial, but if that's what you really think the best use of my time is, then far be it from me to argue, my dear."

"So, does House Redoran want you to do anything else, Rispy?" I ask.

Rispy shrugs. "I didn't ask. I'll ask tomorrow. They can wait. I want to fucking sleep."

"By all means," Tom says. "You should be safe from Sixth House nightmares here."

Rispy snorts softly. "I never got them in the first place. You know, just because I never learned magic doesn't mean I never learned to defend my mind. I would have thought that all your Occlumency would have helped."

"It does, to an extent," Tom says. "But Dagoth Ur has a far greater power level than ours, and once he finds a way in, he can keep using that again and again."

"And he found a way in," I say quietly. "Once I came to his attention, once he realized who I was…" I shake my head. "I don't know why you were spared, Rispy."

Rispy finishes eating a plate of rat meat and stands up. "Let me tell you one thing, though. Next loop, I'm not joining House Redoran. Not unless something _seriously_ improves along the way."

"You've hardly given them a chance," I say. "I'm sure they can't be _that_ bad."

* * *

"House Redoran wants me to deliver a Cure Disease potion to a shitty little town on the ass-end of nowhere," Rispy says. "And they didn't even provide the potion. They wanted me to buy one myself." He grabs a sujamma and flops down at the table between Sirius and Abraxas, the tip of his tail flicking.

"Not to worry," Sirius says. "I've stolen plenty of them." He punctuates this with reaching over and swiping a bit of scrib jerky from Tom.

"From the sounds of things, it's time to be done with Ald'ruhn for the moment," I say. "Sirius, how've the Thieves Guild jobs been going?"

"Much more profitably than the Redoran ones, apparently," Sirius says. "Also I may have done some freelance thievery, too. That is, they sent me into nobles' manors to steal things, and then I stole everything else, too."

"Aren't they going to _notice_ half their belongings missing?" Abraxas wonders. "Like when they turn up in the local pawnshops?"

"Nah, I didn't sell them at the local pawnshops," Sirius says. "I shoved them into our storerooms. If we need to fence them, we can do it somewhere else. Besides, we needed to stock up on junk, anyway." He holds aloft a fancy plate. "Check out this new tableware set!"

"How, precisely, did you get large quantities of junk out of the nobles' manors without anyone noticing?" Abraxas says.

"They've probably noticed by this point…" I comment.

"By use of a portable Oblivion gate." Sirius winks. "I didn't need to sneak anything through the streets."

"This is not quite what I had in mind when I set this up, but I shan't complain of it." Tom chuckles. " _This_ is why you need extra gates?"

"Yep!" Sirius says. "It's inconvenient to pack up the yurt and keep everyone trapped inside or outside while I'm doing that."

"You'd best steal a number of high-powered soul gems, in that case," Tom says.

"And we should help Edwinna at the Mages Guild out with her Dwemer projects," I say. "Which will require actually going into a Dwemer ruin."

"The Thieves Guild wants some Dwemer scraps, too," Sirius adds. "Dunno what they want with the stuff. I didn't ask. I never do. Not that they'd tell me, anyway."

"I've set aside an area for a Dwemer workshop." Tom turns to me. "Build some robots. Experiment with machines. It would be a far preferable use of your time than chasing after the Camonna Tong."

I snort softly. "Not even to repeatedly stab them in the face?"

"If you're only going after them as entertainment and catharsis, then by all means," Tom says. "I'm hardly one to complain of you wanting to kill people, after all, and criminals are people you can readily get away with killing. I just don't expect them to be even remotely relevant to anything whatsoever."

"That's fine," I say. "That's for the best, actually. I'd hate to think if these scum were actually _important_." I smirk.

"Either way," Sirius says. "Best to get away from Ald'ruhn for a while before anyone can connect the sudden disappearance of all the nobles' belongings to us. Although I did stop by the Rat in the Pot, too, to give them a cut and let them make sure there's no legal trouble." He clears his throat.

"Dwemer ruins aside, we should head to Gnisis next and join up with the Imperial Legion," I say. "That's where I've been told they sign people up for it."

"That eager to be a legionnaire?" Gellert grins.

I shrug. "I'm sure they'll give me plenty of speeches on loyalty and duty that I'm going to cheerfully ignore. Because I don't give a fuck."

"I am uncertain as to what you even hope to gain by joining up," Abraxas drawls. "At least in the case of the Great Houses, you wish to infiltrate them to uncover their secrets. But it seems like joining the Legion could only bring trouble, especially should it get out that you are a member to those who are not fond of the Empire."

"The Great Houses have their secrets," I say. "The Empire does, too. And I aim to find out what they're hiding. They must be hiding _something_. Everyone is."

"I cannot fault your logic," Abraxas says with a smirk. "It will be most refreshing to unveil all of these secrets and then go back in time so that no one ever knew you infiltrated absolutely every faction on the island that would take you."

I snicker. "More importantly, I want to speak with Baladas, the Telvanni mage living in Gnisis, about the Dwemer. The Telvanni Archmagister actually wanted me to speak with him about it, too, but I've had other things to be doing."

"I'm sure the Archmagister will be thrilled at how seriously you take your duties," Abraxas says.

"Anyway, hmm," I murmur thoughtfully. "Last loop, Baladas wanted some books about the Dwemer. I do not remember now which ones he wanted."

"Just bring them all," Gellert says. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. And I'm sure Hermione has already read them all anyway."

"Don't count out her still getting upset over anyone touching her books even if she has," I say. "I mean, what if she wants to look up something?" I grin.

"Has she not learned or designed a book copying spell by this point?" Abraxas wonders.

"That would be an excellent thing to follow up our crime spree with," Sirius says. "Burglary, murder, and copyright infringement."

"It would go nicely with the heresy, smuggling, and tax evasion, too," I add.

"Have I mentioned yet that I love that you're committing heresy just by existing?" Gellert comments, leaning against me.

I snicker. "One of these times, I'm going to piss the Temple off good."

"I guess I should actually go to shitty town of nowhere once we get to Gnisis, then," Rispy says. "A Cure Disease potion sounds like something actually important to get somewhere quickly."

"Why did they not just send up a healer capable of casting Cure Disease?" I wonder.

Rispy smirks. "Despite all of you being mages to some extent or another, those are actually rarer than you'd think."

"I still cannot fathom how everyone can learn magic but most people don't even bother to learn even basic spells," I say.

"Most people don't bother to learn how to build robots, either," Rispy adds. "Not even in universes where the knowledge is trivial to obtain."

"Everyone can learn to brew potions, too," Tom says, looking to me pointedly.

I groan. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you."


	25. The Imperial Legion

After a relaxing silt strider ride, I arrive in Gnisis and deploy the yurt near the temple. Gnisis doesn't have walls like Ald'ruhn, and honestly, next time I park this yurt in Ald'ruhn, I'll just set it up behind the temple there. This low-effort annoyance of the Tribunal Temple and the city guards amuses me far more than it probably should.

My first stop is Baladas, and after pulling out an armload comprising every Dwemer-related book we possess, I head up into the round building he's made his home. They're too much to carry, so I just use telekinesis, staying close enough to be able to catch them if my concentration should slip. I don't think I was ever the best Jedi at the 'lifting rocks with your brain' sort of thing, but that was probably due to lack of practice and lack of remembering having practiced. Levitating everything everywhere is excellent practice, at least.

Avoiding the side corridors and rooms in which Baladas for some reason keeps skeletons, I head straight up the ramp to the top room and knock on the door. No response at first, so I knock again after a minute. That time, Baladas' pet crocodile daedroth opens the door and lets me in.

I go inside, books floating along behind me. "Good day. Baladas, I presume? I'm Lexen Skywalker, Telvanni retainer. I've brought you some books."

Baladas chuckles. "Well, you certainly know how to make a good first impression, Lexen Skywalker. For a moment there, I was afraid you were another tax collector. Float those books over to my table here and let me see what you've brought."

I set them down on the table in front of him and release my telekinesis. Baladas goes over to look through them, and his eyes light up. I think Sirius must have robbed the secret library in the Vivec temple again. I do hope that he also learned a spell to replace them with blank duplicates, or it would be incredibly obvious if he took too many of them. But perhaps I'm underestimating how many books are in this secret library he's mentioned.

"So, are you a scholar, then?" Baladas asks.

I nod. "I came to Morrowind to study the Dwemer."

I go into a lengthy discussion on the Dwemer with him, teasing at a few subjects we didn't cover last time I was here to see if I can uncover some new information. However, either he doesn't know any more than I've already figured out, or he's not willing to share it with someone he just met five minutes ago just because they gave him a bunch of books. I'll have to try talking with him more at some point, but right now, I think I've done all I can.

* * *

Fort Darius is a fairly small Imperial Legion fort located just outside of Gnisis. Gellert and I head inside and take a look around, but all I see are a lot of orcs. I would assume that, judging by the name, General Darius is probably an Imperial, although maybe like Remus his actual name is Dar gro-Something-or-Other. Probably not, though.

"Looking for something, humans?" one orc asks.

"I was hoping to speak with General Darius about joining the Imperial Legion," I say.

"You can find him over at the pub in town," the orc replies.

"Ah, I must have come at a bad time and he'd stepped out to get a drink," I say.

"No, you can pretty much always find him there," the orc says. "He rarely actually comes out to the fort itself."

Gellert says, "Well, far be it from us to wonder why the esteemed general runs his fort from a pub."

We return to town and head into the pub in question, and shortly locate the general by his uniform. "General Darius?"

"That's me," Darius says. "What do you need?"

"I'm Lexen Skywalker, and this is Gellert," I say. "We're looking to join the Imperial Legion."

"Always looking for good men and women to join the ranks," Darius says. "Here, let me get you some uniforms."

"Why does _nobody_ in Morrowind ask a second question about who you are before letting you join?" Gellert wonders. "Are you guys that desperate for troops?"

"Should I be asking?" Darius replies, raising an eyebrow at us.

I snort softly. "Sometimes you have to wonder."

"Far be it from us to wonder at how you run your organization," Gellert says lightly.

Once we get settle in and changed into our 'uniforms', which are really just shitty armor that I don't have the heart to tell off Darius for foisting upon us, we return to the general to see if he has any orders for us.

"You're adventurers, aren't you," Darius says. "You've that look about you. You're no rookies at fighting. You'd be wasted as front line soldiers."

"True," I say. "Is there anything else we could do, then?"

"Better to use you as special operatives, I think," Darius says. "First, though, there's something I'd like you to do for me. There's a woman in town by the name of Vabdas. Her husband has recently died. I want you to obtain the deed to her land so that we can build a new dock on it."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Wait a minute. Her husband just died, and you want me to take her land, so you can build a fucking _dock_?"

"You're out of line, recruit," Darius says. "Are you loyal to the Empire, or not?"

I scowl. "If you want a dock, aren't there other places you can build one? Like, hey, there's an old stronghold right across the river over there that nobody's using but some bandits or something. Why not just take that over and build a dock _there_?"

"We don't have the troops to spare right now to dislodge the entrenched forces in that stronghold," Darius says. "We had a scout get up there not too long ago to discover that the place is full of Daedra."

I throw up my hands. "Fine, I'll do it myself."

"You think the two of you can take on a stronghold full of Daedra?" Darius asks.

"No, but I can call in some friends to back us up," I say, not bothering to comment that I probably _could_ clear it out by myself if I were stubborn enough and willing to die repeatedly.

"That's still missing the point of going to get the widow's land deed," Darius says.

"Do you want a dock, or do you want to 'test my loyalty'?" I ask.

"Obviously you're failing at the latter," Gellert says with a smirk.

"I want that land," Darius said. "Regardless of whether you can secure the stronghold for the Legion, her land is in a much more convenient position. And yes, you are not impressing me with your loyalty to the Empire."

"I didn't realize the Empire stood for extorting widows," I say.

"We are, of course, willing to pay for her land," Darius says.

"Fine," I say. "And if I negotiate a deal with her, you'll honor it and I won't just have to pay it out of my own pocket?"

"Yes, of course," Darius says. "But don't take no for an answer."

"Right then," I say.

"The phrase is 'yes, sir'," Darius says.

"I'll go talk to the widow," I say. "Sir."

I get directions and head out to locate the widow's house, and thereby spend at least an hour wandering around town because I refuse to ask for directions from any townspeople, only to discover that it's actually just outside of town and not within town itself.

"Are you Widow Vabdas?" I ask. "The Imperial Legion wants to buy your land. For any price. I suggest asking an absolutely ridiculous sum from them and leave them honor-bound to pay it because they're being assholes about this."

"It was the Imperial Legion who killed my husband!" Vabdas protests.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "Of course it was, the damned n'wah."

Vabdas looks confused. "Are you not an outlander yourself?"

"By coincidence of birth," I say. "Will you make a demand of them, or shall I just tell them to go fuck themselves and shank whoever was responsible for your husband's death?"

"Resigning already?" Gellert says. "You only joined five minutes ago!"

"And I am already spectacularly unimpressed with them," I say.

"I would appreciate if you could bring my husband's killer to justice," Vabdas says.

"Consider it done," I say.

I turn on my heel and stride out of there, and up the hill to the egg mine. The door is locked, and I'm just about to break it open when the guard outside says that since I'm in the Legion he'll just give me the key. I wonder if he realized what I was about to do and wanted to save the door, or if he was just feeling helpful. No matter. I head inside and wander around a bit, looking for any evidence of Vabdas' husband.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" growls an orc. "If you're not out of here by the time I count to ten, I'm going to attack you!"

I roll my eyes, in no particular mood to mess around with idiotic orcs, and conjure my Bound Longsword. "Okay. By all means. I feel like killing something today."

"Rahhh!" The orc charges at me and attacks in a blind rage.

The stupid orc turns out to be not nearly as difficult to deal with as two large kwama warriors that run in at us from the left. After getting several nasty gashes from their claws, I decide to just stop messing around with them and take them out with a lightning storm.

"Well, that was something," Gellert says. "Was that orc with the Legion?"

"I think so," I say. "He certainly wasn't an egg miner."

"Do you suppose they're going to be annoyed at us for killing a," he clears his throat, unable to say it with a straight face, "loyal fellow legionnaire?"

I snort softly. "I hope so. Fuck them."

We continue down the tunnel and quickly come face-to-face with a ghost.

"Hi," I say, holding up my glowing purple sword. "Are you going to attack us, too, or feel like chatting?"

"You're talking to a ghost," Gellert says. "I haven't seen many undead around here that talk back."

"Do not fear me, outlanders," the ghost says.

"Okay, guess I was wrong," Gellert says.

"No, there really aren't many ghosts that talk and don't attack us," I say.

"I'm not going to attack you," the ghost says. "In life, I was Mansilimat Vabdas."

"Oh, you're the one who was murdered?" Gellert asks. "Great, that makes investigations so much easier. Whodunnit?"

"Lugrub gro-Ogdum!" the ghost says.

"Who?" I ask in confusion.

"An orc, presumably," Gellert says.

"That wouldn't conveniently be the idiot orc who just attacked us, would it?" I say.

"He didn't exactly introduce himself before charging at us blindly," Gellert says.

"You don't even wonder why he killed me?" the ghost says.

"Not really," I say. "But it was probably over something stupid. Was he sleeping with your wife or something?"

"No!" the ghost replies. "Well. At least I hope he wasn't."

"Why don't you take a look at the corpse and see if it's the right orc?" I ask.

"All orcs sort of look the same to me," the ghost says. "Also, I can't move from this spot."

"Be right back, then," I say.

I head back up the tunnel and lift the corpse telekinetically, and drag it back to the spot where the ghost is still hovering.

The ghost looks at the dead orc and nods. "Yes, I think that was him. It makes me rest easy to know that you've brought him to justice. Although the Imperial Legion might not be especially pleased that you've randomly preemptively killed him for… some reason. Not that I blame you, mind you."

"He was annoying," I say. "Also, he attacked us first."

"As you say," the ghost said. "Regardless, you can find my remains in the pool behind me, along with the axe he broke when he slew me."

"He broke his axe on you?" Gellert says. "What a shitty fighter. He must have been outright embarrassed about that."

Not particularly feeling like getting wet, I cast a water walking spell, stroll out onto the water, and telekinetically pull the axe up to my hand. Fortunately, I actually manage to catch it without accidentally cutting off my hand. That would be embarrassing.

"So long as we're down here, let's see what's over this way," I say, continuing further down the tunnel and hopping over a stream.

The tunnel opens into a Dwemer ruin heated by churning magma. Most of it appears to have collapsed in on itself, buried under piles of rocks. Off to one side, however, stands a table with some sort of Dwemer schematic, and a large intact book. Divine Metaphysics? Cool…

Gellert peers over my shoulder at the book. "Let me guess. You can read that?"

"Of course," I say, starting to page through it.

"Not to interrupt, but you know you can read that back in the palace, right? You don't need to stand around in a cave to do it?"

I snicker. "Right, let's go." I tuck the book in my pack and cast Almsivi Intervention, and we reappear outside the Gnisis Temple.

We stop by Widow Vabdas house and let her know that her husband's killer has been brought to justice, whilst refraining from mentioning that we had no idea who this dumb orc was in the first place when he attacked us. That done, we make our way back across town to the pub that the general does his generaling from.

"Report, recruits," Darius says. "Do you have the land deed?"

"No, and I'm not going to get it," I say. "Mansilimat Vabdas was murdered by a legionnaire by the name of Lugrub gro-Ogdum."

"That's a serious accusation," Darius says. "Do you have any proof of that?"

I hold aloft Lugrub's axe.

"It's an axe," Darius says flatly.

"It belonged to Lugrub," I say.

"I'm not intimately acquainted with every weapon my men use," Darius says.

"Pretty sure he owned more than one axe, anyway," Gellert says. "He _was_ wielding another one when he attacked us, at any rate."

Darius raises an eyebrow. "He _attacked_ you?"

"Yeah, no idea why," I say. "All we did was walk into the mine and start going down the tunnel where we found this broken axe and the body of a Dunmer who looked like he'd been hacked apart by an axe. Maybe he was trying to hide something? Either way, he's dead now, and it was in self-defense."

Darius groans. "If what you say is true, then it wouldn't be right for the Legion to try to acquire the land deed from the widow."

"That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say all day," I say.

"You're out of _line_ , soldier," Darius snaps.

"How did you _expect_ me to react when the first thing you told me to do was to strongarm a widow into giving you her land? Especially after finding out that it was a member of your own damned Legion who killed her husband? This is not what I joined the Legion for. I'd believed the Legion to be honorable. To bring justice. To help people. To _protect_ people. Was I mistaken?"

Darius scowls, but before he can open his mouth to say anything, I continue.

"Now, do you want that stronghold I originally offered and not have to bother any widows?" I ask.

"If you wish to honorably commit suicide against a stronghold full of Daedra, I'm not going to discourage you," Darius says curtly.

"We'll be back shortly," I say.

As we're heading out of the pub, Gellert comments, "Man, I expected that you and the Legion wouldn't get along, but I hadn't expected that you wouldn't be able to stand them for five minutes."

"I'm going to put on something less shitty to wear before going into that fort," I grumble.

* * *

My friends, I think, are all far too used to my bloody whims to even bother to question why I suddenly want to clear out the Daedra from the old Dunmer stronghold of Berandas. Regardless, while they're tougher than your usual group of bandits, they're still not something that we're going to be having any serious trouble with. Once the deed is done, Gellert and I return to the pub.

"Still alive, recruits?" Darius asks.

"The fort is yours," I say.

"Excuse me?" Darius says.

"The stronghold Berandas," I say. "The one across the river? You might want to send your men in to stake a claim to it before anything else can move in now that we've cleared it out. I'm sure there's plenty of room there along the coast for as many docks as you want."

"I'll have to send someone in to confirm what you say, but if it's true, then I'm impressed," Darius says. "You're effective, even if you're completely disrespectful. Also, you're out of uniform."

"I'll care more about your uniforms once they're less shitty," I say.

"You mean once they're less shitty, _sir_ ," Darius says.

"Do you _really_ think you're going to get him to call you sir, sir?" Gellert says.

"I have to try," Darius grumbles. "If you don't want to wear a uniform and call me 'sir', _why_ did you join the Imperial Legion in the first place?"

"That's an excellent question," I say. "And one I can't really answer." I dump my uniform at his feet. "So I resign."

"Hey, wait a minute," Darius says. "You can't just quit."

"Why can't I?" I wonder.

"That's not how things work," Darius says.

"Will you throw me out if I hit you, then?" I ask.

"You'll be expelled," Darius says. "Not to encourage you to hit me, mind you. But that's just being suspended. You'd still be considered a member and it would be permanently on your record."

"How do you _quit_ a gods-damned faction around here?" I wonder.

"Well, you really can't," Darius says. "No one is going to forget or forgive your actions easily, and certainly not repeatedly."

"House Telvanni will," I say. "They can murder their own counselors and they won't care."

"Okay, I stand corrected, then," Darius says. "No one _except House Telvanni_ is going to forget or forgive your actions easily. And I'm really questioning just how sane the Telvanni are or why you know that."

"Because I'm a member of House Telvanni," I reply.

"And you wanted to join the Imperial Legion _why_ exactly, again?" Darius asks. "Didn't you say something about honor and justice?"

"He has really weird ideas of 'honor'," Gellert says.

"So I gather," Darius says dryly. "You know, if you weren't so intent upon pissing me off and quitting, the next thing I would have asked you to do would be to find a way to cure the blighted kwama queen in the egg mine."

I glower at him. " _Why_ would you not ask me to do that _before_ you asked me to strongarm the widow? Isn't this kind of a priority here?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Darius grouses.

"Fuck, were you really more interested in proving my loyalty than in actually helping and protecting people?" I demand. "And you _wonder_ why I want to quit already? _This_ is why they hate you. This is why they sneer and call you 'n'wah' when you pass. They don't see the Empire as helping them or protecting them when they need help and protection. They see you protecting your interests first and only deigning to help them when you absolutely have to, and sometimes not even then. And before you tell me I'm out of line again, I'm going to tell you that _you're_ out of line. You're out of line with your entire operation here. You're _out of line_ just being in Vvardenfell at all. You don't belong here. None of you belong here."

I turn on my heel and stride out of the room, ignoring him calling after me.

Once we're back in the portable palace, Gellert says, "As amusing as it is to watch you yell at people, I have to wonder just why you wanted us to infiltrate all these factions if you're going to be so bad at it yourself."

I snicker. "I didn't realize they were going to be that bad. But it's good to know, I suppose."

"What happened?" Kirlin asks.

"The Imperial Legion are scum," I say.

"Well, I'm not going to argue, but what makes you say that?" Kirlin asks.

"Did you even give them much of a chance?" Remus wonders.

"They were more interested in getting land from a widow than they were in trying to heal the kwama queen," I say. "All for the sake of proving my damned loyalty. Fuck that. Fuck stunts like that."

"Okay, okay, you don't need to start up your rant again here too," Gellert says, smirking.

I take a deep breath. "Yeah. Sorry."

"What, exactly, just happened here?" Remus asks.

"He basically just yelled at the general of the Imperial Legion and called him an n'wah," Gellert says lightly. "Fortunately, you can't actually get arrested for yelling at people and calling them n'wah, otherwise they'd have to arrest half of Morrowind by now."

Kirlin puts her face in her palm. "If you weren't going to do this seriously, you could have just asked someone else to do it. Azura knows that's what you did for almost every other faction."

"Kirlin, can you cure the kwama queen?" I ask. "I'm _really_ not concerned with whose name it's being done in, but it still ought to be done."

"I'll take care of it," Kirlin says.

"On the bright side, I found this really cool book," I say, pulling out _Divine Metaphysics_.

Kirlin gazes upon the enormous tome and says, "Right, in other words, don't bother you for a few years. I'll send Hermione down. She'll be thrilled."

"Oh, right, I guess I'll have to translate it for her," I say. "It's in Dwemeris. This might take a while."

"If it's time spent not annoying the entire island, then it's time well spent, I think," Kirlin says.


	26. Dwemer Studies

I retreat into my studies. I'm sure my friends are making themselves busy exploring, learning the secrets of the various factions, getting drunk, having sex, or whatever else it is they're doing, but right now I'm finding it hard to care all that much. I'd gone to Gnisis in hopes of distracting myself from the strange things I'd sensed of the universe, and only wound up getting pissed off at the universe instead.

The book I'd run across was a real find. It discusses at length the theories of Kagrenac, the Dwemer artificer, and his construction of Numidium using the Heart of Lorkhan. Dwemer tonal architecture is fascinating, even if I don't quite _understand_ it. While it's ultimately just a distraction, though, I feel that it might give me some insight as to what's going on in Morrowind. Unfortunately for me, while the Dwemer used tonal forces for a vast array of things, I really don't have much ear for music, myself.

Taking a deep breath, I set aside my book and go to the meditation chamber. I lock it behind me this time, not wanting to be disturbed or distracted. Not that it will probably stop Gellert from magically unlocking it and barging in anyway if he has a mind to.

I close my eyes and turn my focus outward, and look at the sun, the moons, and the stars. What would for most people simply be a spell interpreting this information and from it, telling them the time and date, I can actually sense the heavenly bodies. I'm not even entirely sure how I do it. They're just there, slowly turning, a part of the universe, a part of this reality, a part of Mundus. It still doesn't seem quite real. Then, amidst it all, I perceive… a wheel? I think it's a wheel. A wheel of eight spokes with Nirn in the center. I seem to currently be situated in the area between two of the spokes, so far as I can tell. So far as I can tell what I'm seeing at all. I don't understand, and I'm frustrated and terrified at the same time.

I take a deep breath and look inward, to the threads that lead off to the nine souls that are bound to me. This is a comfort. This puts my soul at ease. The knowledge that I'm not alone in the universe, and that I have a stable foundation of support and friendship to keep me sane. I have no idea where I'd be without them.

Feeling calmer now, at least, I get up and head over to the dining area to grab something to eat. I'm starved.

"I never knew you much for meditation," Gellert says.

I shrug. "I'm not sure I can really call it 'meditation', but I suppose that's close enough."

"Whatever you want to call it, it's hard to imagine you sitting quietly in a room for over a day," Gellert says. "You wouldn't even answer when anyone knocked on the door, either. That must have been some intense meditation."

"I hadn't really intended to be in there that long," I say.

"What were you actually _doing?_ " Gellert wonders.

"Watching the sun and moons turn, mostly," I say. "As it turns out, even if it feels like five minutes, if the sun makes a full revolution around the planet, a day has passed."

"I'm going to skip past _why_ you sat in there for a day watching the sun and moons turn and go straight to _how_ ," Gellert says. "There aren't even any windows in that room, even if we _were_ on Nirn here."

"Dunno," I admit. "I'm trying to find answers but I just keep finding more questions."

"What's so interesting about astronomy, anyway?" Gellert wonders. "Unless you're planning to build a new spaceship?"

"I'm… not quite sure that's _possible_ in this universe," I say. "The cosmology here is really fucking _weird_. The sun and stars seem to be holes in a sphere that magic leaks through. I would have expected this sort of description of a universe to be merely superstition by a primitive civilization that has not advanced far in science, but in this case it seems to be literally true. And calling them primitive wouldn't really be doing them much credit, all things considered, especially given what the Dwemer got up to."

Gellert rubs his face. "Holes in the sky. Actual fucking holes in the sky. Okay. Just. What."

"Exactly," I mutter.

"This is beyond me," Gellert says.

"I don't know what to make of it, either," I say.

"Can we just go back to running around casting one-second Bound Dagger spells and killing slavers for a bit? Maybe if we cast Bound Dagger enough times, we'll unlock the secrets of the universe."

I snicker softly. "I could use a break, I think, and some good, clean vigilante abolitionism sounds like just the thing."

* * *

I take some time to do a few chores for the Telvanni. I don't particularly mind when _they_ ask me to do stupid, menial things. Although in the interests of not making anymore waves than I already am, Mistress Therana will live for the moment.

"Hey, Lexen," Gellert says. "We've got a thing we want to do. And it's only fair because you had us help you clear out the Daedra out of that stronghold."

"True," I say. "What is it?"

"We want to plunder Divayth Fyr's dungeon," Gellert says.

I groan. "You can't be serious. That place is full of corprus victims. What if we get infected?"

"I'm sure that's not particularly likely, but if it happens, then reset," Gellert says.

Tom wanders by and interjects, "If it happens, then we get a chance to try out that potion Divayth has been working on."

"Besides, you can't say you're not curious yourself at what he's keeping down there daring people to steal," Gellert says. "If _you_ were a thousands-of-years-old wizard — I mean, across a single world, in a linear sort of fashion — what sort of junk might you have accumulated over the millennia that you wouldn't actually care all that much if someone made off with?"

"I guess it'll be an interesting diversion," I say, then smirk. "And you can't open his chests without me, right? How do you suppose most would-be thieves get them open? Is he hiding keys somewhere, too?"

"I don't know," Gellert says. "I didn't look all that hard. I just saw super-tough chests and went, 'That looks like a job for Lexen!'"

"Point," I say. "Well, if he's got a scavenger hunt, then we can bypass one part of it by me shouting the boxes open."

We make our way to Tel Fyr by means of a brisk walk across the water southwest of Sadrith Mora, take a Magic Nap, and head inside. I proceed to start unlocking everything in sight that's locked. One door, however, reveals a woman behind it, fortunately clothed. A quick naming spell indicates that her name is Delyna Mandas.

"Er, sorry," I say. "I didn't realize anyone was in here. Didn't mean to disturb you."

"Oh, thank the Three someone has come to rescue me!" Delyna exclaims. "Did my father send you?"

"Who's your father?" I ask.

"Arethan Mandas," Delyna says.

"Although I probably should have just skipped asking that and said that no, no one's fathers have sent me to rescue anyone. I'm guessing you're not upset that I unlocked your door and barged in here. Although this room looks awfully nice for a cell. You're saying you were being held prisoner here?"

"Please, lead me out of this tower," Delyna says.

"Okay, I know it's a bit confusing and easy to get lost in here, but really, the door is just right up this ramp here." I gesture. "Just go up that way and turn right."

"Thank you!" Delyna says. "Please, take my locket and tell my father that I'm safe." She tries to foist a cheap bit of jewelry at me.

"Lady, why don't you just go tell him yourself?" I say.

"I have duties that I need to perform!" Delyna says.

"Well, then, so do I," I say. "If you'll excuse me…"

"Hey, don't be so quick to turn it down," Gellert says. "Maybe her father will reward us for rescuing her or something."

"I really don't care," I say. "But fine, whatever."

Gellert snatches up the locket and puts it away, and Delyna runs up the hallway to the exit.

I mumble, "I'm not going to bother 'rescuing' her after we inevitably reset fifty times."

We continue on downward and shortly thereafter find the Argonian warden who guards the entrance to the Corprusarium. After he gives us a warning not to harm the inmates, we head inside. Immediately I think this was a bad idea. Haunting moans echo through the tunnels over the uneven, erratic shuffling of feet. I remember the pain of corprus, the fear of losing my mind, the fear of madness, and for all that, I plunged headlong into madness anyway when I went straight to Dagoth Ur. Was this Gellert's intention when he called me down here? To force me to face this and deal with it, and quit wallowing and being afraid of it?

"Alright, I think the first chest we saw was around here somewhere…" Gellert says.

Or maybe he actually just wanted to poke around to look for treasure and ancient secrets. That seems likely too.

I put up wards and head inside. Not that they do much good, mind you. Without being able to hurt the corprus patients, we just keep attracting more and more of them as we try to make our way through the tunnels. Our magic can't keep up with that, and we wind up resetting once they break through and start clawing at us.

* * *

"I am greatly unsurprised that we didn't manage that on the first try," I comment dryly.

"It probably wasn't necessary to reset immediately," Gellert says.

"I'm not taking any chances," I say. "Anyway, let's not worry about the chests just yet. Let's just go in and map the place out and try to avoid the patients as we can."

"Righto," Gellert says.

The second time through, we focus more on illusion and stealth to make our way through the Corprusarium. That seems to work better, and we manage to slip into the bowels of the caverns before attracting too much attention. The patients deeper in seem a little more docile, at least.

One section of the caves is set up with something resembling civilization and comfort. A carpet has been laid out on a section of wooden floor. A fancy armoire, table, and cookpot have been set up around it, making a rather incongruous sort of 'room'. One of the Fyr daughter-clones is here, along with a bloated, bearded man sitting upon a modified Dwemer spider automaton.

"Ah, good day," says the Dunmer woman. "I am Uupse Fyr."

"I am very politely making no comments on that name," Gellert says lightly.

"Are you new corprus patients here?" Uupse asks. "Or just trying to plunder the dungeon?"

"I'm Lexen, and this is Gellert," I say. "And that would be the latter, as silly of an idea as it seems. We've been careful, though. Wards and illusion spells."

Uupse nods. "The sound of drumming soothes them. There's a guarskin drum around here somewhere. If you find it, that will probably make them less aggressive."

"Good to know," I say. "And what's this?" I go over to the man on the spider. "That's a clever use of Dwemer technology."

"Thank you," says the man. "I am Yagrum Bagarn, the Last Living Dwarf."

"Truly," I say, then switch to the Dwemer language. "I greet you kindly, Yagrum Bagarn. Thank you for welcoming me into your halls."

Yagrum looks surprised. "It has been many an age since I have heard my own tongue, and you speak it so well! Where did you ever learn it?"

I grin crookedly. "In another lifetime, so to speak."

"Most curious," Yagrum says.

"And I will generously assume that you will not tell everyone that I'm Nerevar reborn. I doubt you must get a lot of visitors down here. I certainly hadn't heard that there was a surviving Dwemer before. How did you manage that?"

"By not being on Nirn when Kagrenac was performing whatever foolish thing it was that he did to make my people vanish," Yagrum replies.

"Ah, yeah, that would do it I guess," I say. "I found a book he'd written and I've been reading it over, and while he has some interesting methods at times, he seemed awfully obsessed with the Heart of Lorkhan and the prospect of creating gods with it."

"He was a madman," Yagrum says. "It would be for the best that his works die with him."

" _I_ certainly wasn't planning on trying to repeat the feat," I say. "What I've gleaned from all this seems to be that messing around with the Heart of Lorkhan is bad."

"Hey, Lexen," Gellert says. "I know you could probably spend a century slumming with the old Dwemer here in the Corprusarium, but could we plunder the dungeon first? You've got all the time in the world to chat afterward."

I grumble. "We've got all the time in the world to chat beforehand, too, but whatever."

Gellert smirks. "No, I just know that once you get started, I won't be able to budge you until he tells you to go away."

"I wasn't going to," Yagrum says.

"Alright, alright," I say. "I'll be back later, Yagrum. Provided I don't die horribly."

We head back out into the tunnels and proceed to die horribly.

* * *

I groan. "Okay, that was stupid. Do we happen to have a guarskin drum on hand?"

"Let's check storage," Gellert says.

We head into the yurt to look around. Amidst piles of junk, we do find a drum. I have no idea where or _why_ it was taken, but Sirius' kleptomania is proving useful. I make Gellert strap it around his waist and beat it as we walk into the Corprusarium. The Argonian warden gives us an odd look as we pass by. Thankfully, the corprus patients are no music critics, and the rhythmic drumming calms them down.

"I wonder if this trick would work up on Red Mountain," Gellert muses.

"Somehow I doubt the world would be that convenient," I comment. "Although I'm not quite sure _why_ this works here. And I doubt Uupse actually knows, either."

"Corprus victims clearly develop a deep-set appreciation for rock music," Gellert says.

Without the fear of being constantly attacked, we wander around the Corprusarium and break into a number of chests, collecting a growing assortment primarily comprised of Dwemer coins and tableware.

"Oh, look, there's goblets in this one," I say.

"Divayth Fyr must be really getting a chuckle out of this sort of thing," Gellert comments.

One of the chests, this one next to Yagrum Bagarn, contains a very large hammer. I dubiously look it over and try to lift it out, but it's so heavy that I almost wind up dropping it on my foot in the process.

"Ugh, why don't we just leave this thing here?" I mutter.

"Aw, come on," Gellert says. "We didn't come in here just to leave the treasure behind!"

"It's heavy and not even enchanted," I grumble.

"That's what telekinesis is for," Gellert says dismissively. "Also, we've got enchanters. Also, it just _looks_ cool!"

"That's Volendrung, the Hammer of Might," Uupse says helpfully.

"See?" Gellert says. "It even has a name!"

"She might just be making that up on the spot to get us to take this piece of junk away," I say.

"It's a legendary weapon," Uupse says.

"It's a legendary piece of shit," I mutter.

"We can at least hang it on a wall," Gellert says.

"Fine, fine," I say. "We'll take the legendary piece of shit and hang it on a wall so every time we pass by we can look at it and go 'oh boy, what an impressive hammer, that was totally worth coming down into the disease-ridden caverns and risking horrible death for'."

I slowly, carefully, lift the hammer out of the chest with telekinesis, trying very hard not to drop it and break my foot. I suppose if it's good for one thing, it's for practice in magically lifting large, heavy objects. Yagrum, for his part, seems to be highly amused at my predicament, chuckling loudly. Grumbling loudly, I hover the stupid hammer out of the Corprusarium. I can only guess that Divayth locked it up in a cave just because he didn't want the thing anymore himself. Or probably didn't actually want it in the first place, didn't need the money he'd get from selling it, and thought just giving it to someone would be a bit too simple. He could have at least done what plenty of other people seem to do, which would be giving the piece of junk they don't want anymore to some adventurer who just did something for them that would have been incredibly annoying and inconvenient for them to do themselves.

Once the hammer is safely ensconced in our storerooms, I take the drum from Gellert and head back down into the Corprusarium. He doesn't really care to come with me, and I want to talk to Yagrum some more. Not that I actually talked to him at all in this timeline.

"Okay, now that Gellert's got his stupid hammer," I say. "Hi. I'm Lexen Skywalker. Nice to meet you."

"So, you've come to speak with Yagrum Bagarn, the Last Living Dwarf?" Yagrum says.

I switch to Dwemeris. "I am greatly pleased for the opportunity to speak with you."

The formalities out of the way, and my identity confirmed and explained again, we launch into a lengthy conversation in the Dwemer language. Yagrum is more than happy to have someone new he can finally converse in it fluently. I'm guessing that he's probably taught the Fyrs a good bit of it, not that they've ever given indication thereof, but it would seem like a waste if he hadn't. Not to mention chatting with someone who _isn't_ just interested in wondering why his people disappeared, as if that were the only interesting thing about them.

"I'm curious," Uupse interjects. "How did you know how to calm the corprus patients down?" She gestures to my drum.

"Ah, this?" I say sheepishly. Time for bullshit. "Well, if you're wondering, my friends and I have been doing some studies into corprus ourselves." In one timeline or another.

"Oh, really?" Uupse says. "Maybe you'd be willing to share notes, then."

"I'm not really the one most heavily involved in the project, myself," I say. "But I'll let Tom know you're here and see if he might be interested in chatting. I am, however, very curious as to how Yagrum here survived corprus with his mind intact."

"I lost it, for a while there," Yagrum says. "I only started remembering things again and coming to my senses fairly recently, thanks in a large part to the care of Divayth Fyr."

"Hmm, I see." I nod.

"And you, Nerevar, you say you are?" Yagrum says. "What do _you_ remember of that lost age?"

I shake my head. "Bits and pieces. Half-formed images and words. Nothing substantial. I still remember languages, though. And I probably have skills I've forgotten that I even have."

"Such as your shouting to open boxes?" Yagrum says.

"Yeah, no idea where I got that," I say, shrugging helplessly. "Apparently I'm 'Dragonborn', meaning I have the soul of a dragon. Which apparently means I can shout things open. I haven't encountered anything explicitly like that in reading over historical works regarding Nerevar, but that probably doesn't mean much considering how vague, allegorical, and self-contradictory they are most of the time."

"You could ask someone who knew you in that life," Yagrum says. "I did not, and I am uncertain whether or not Divayth did, but there is surely at least one person in Tamriel who did."

I pause. "Vivec."

Yagrum tilts his head. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

"Not really, no," I say, only vaguely recalling even having fought him before.

"Perhaps you should," Yagrum says. "Perhaps it would lead you to the answers that you seek."

"I'm not sure just how much I'm actually seeking those answers right now," I say.

"Are you not?" Yagrum says. "Or are you trying to avoid the questions."

I wince. "Maybe that. I've been keeping my status as the Nerevarine under wraps to avoid complications with both the Temple and with Dagoth Ur. I haven't really told anyone outside of you and my most trusted companions." And Caius. Who I should probably get back to sometime.

"You don't need to tell everyone," Yagrum says. "Just one more person."

"Yeah," I say. "I'll think about it. It can't hurt, at any rate."

* * *

"Ah, Lexen, you're back," Caius says as I settle into his house, which smells strongly of skooma at the moment. I hope he's not too stoned at the moment. "I was wondering when you were going to turn up again and whether I'd have to find a way to get a message to you. You don't really make yourself easy to pin down. One day I get a report of you being in Gnisis, then the next day you're in Sadrith Mora."

I snicker. "Yeah, I've kind of been all over the place. How have things been going on this end?"

"Not good," Caius says. "I've tried to tip people off to keep away from places like Ilunibi, but some things have come up in the meantime. A couple egg mines have been overrun by the ash creatures you described, and a settlement called Maar Gan was attacked."

I scowl. "I suppose it's inevitable that I'm not going to be able to avoid a confrontation forever if I remain in Morrowind."

"Without intervention, Dagoth Ur may well overrun Tamriel," Caius says.

"Yeah…" I murmur.

But is it even worth trying to stop him? To be railroaded into a prophecy I want nothing to do with? To risk my mind again to corprus? I'm still not entirely convinced that Dagoth's vision for Tamriel is _wrong_. And yet, people are dying. Towns are being attacked. People are being driven mad by strange dreams. Can I really stand by and do nothing while the world burns?

"He needs to be stopped," I say finally, reluctantly. "But I don't know how."

Caius snorts softly. "Nobody else does, either. But you're the best one in a position to do something about it. _You_ can keep trying until you get it right."

"That's true," I say. "But blindly throwing myself at him won't do anyone any good, either."

"Then let's find a way," Caius says. "Look for answers on your end, and I'll follow up my own leads. Come back and we can compare notes. Whenever you get around to coming back." He smirks.

"I'm going to go talk to Vivec," I say quietly.


	27. Vivec's Plan

A pilgrim is praying at the shrine in front of Vivec's palace as I approach. When she sees me, she looks up and asks, "Are you here to pay your respects to Lord Vivec as well, outlander?"

"Something like that," I reply. I try the door. Locked. No great surprise.

"I don't think Lord Vivec wishes to be disturbed," the pilgrim says.

"It's okay," I say. "He knows me." I smirk at the door. "And I'd imagine he also knows full well that no lock can keep me out. _STIN_ ," I say, for once thinking about what I'm actually saying. The door vibrates but doesn't open.

"What are you—"

" _STIN-PAH-GEIN!"_

With a crack and a clatter, the door flies open, leaving the pilgrim standing at the shrine staring as I stride inside. In the center of the room, a person sits cross-legged, floating in the air about two feet off the floor. The right half of his body is Chimer-golden, and the left half Dunmer-gray.

He opens his eyes to look over to me. "You have come uninvited. Leave me."

"You should know I never need an invitation, Vehk," I say wryly, walking up toward him.

Vivec stares at me. "Who are you?"

I take a deep breath. "Lexenmilot Skywalker Majere Renneck Chelseer Dragonblood, the Stormseeker. Darth Revan, Lord of Revenge. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. And Indoril Nerevar. Well. I'm not here for revenge today. I'm not going to try to kill you this time."

Vivec pauses for a long moment. "This time?"

"Yeah, last time I was here, I killed you," I say. "Except that didn't happen."

"You _remember_ that?" Vivec says.

" _You_ remember that?" I say.

"You did not seem particularly lucid at the time," Vivec says. "Dagoth Ur's corruption was strong about you and your companions."

I wince. "Yeah, in hindsight, it might not have been the best idea. Foresight. Sidesight? Talking about alternate timelines and time travel is grammatically complicated."

"You always forgot," Vivec says. "Memory was like ash sifting through your fingers. Every morning I had to remind you of what we were doing, and you complained of nightmares where you died. And you did die. Again and again and again. Time rejected your death."

"I don't forget anymore," I say. "I haven't really recovered everything I lost, and I'm not sure that's even possible since even if it did it would probably overwhelm me, but I'm not going to lose anything else. Not if I can help it. I found balance. It was… a long trip."

"And one that brought you back here," Vivec says. "And yet have you come to save us, or destroy us? Or perhaps both at once?"

I chuckle softly. "Salvation of one is the destruction of another." I fold my arms across my chest. "I read your books."

"Did you," Vivec says.

"Could you have _possibly_ made yourself sound like you weren't on skooma?" I ask with a smirk. "I joke, but I can't judge. It's not like everything I or my companions says makes any sense whatsoever out of context, either."

"You came to me alone this time," Vivec says.

"Yeah, they have a terrible tendency to interrupt, interject silly comments, and drag things off on tangents," I say. "I can already do that well enough on my own. Don't get me wrong, I love them to death, but there was a point I wanted to make first and you can chat with them at length anytime if you like."

Vivec smirks. "Yes, there was a time when I might have thought the only reason you kept _me_ around was to interject silly comments and go off on tangents."

"I came here to talk about Dagoth Ur," I say.

"I suspected as much," Vivec says.

I smirk right back at him. "What, you don't think that I would visit you for any other reason?"

"You were either here to discuss Dagoth Ur, or to attempt to refresh your memories, or to get revenge upon me," Vivec says.

"Those weren't the only options," I say. "There are always choices."

"When you were here before," Vivec says. "Before never, in the other time that is not this time. I did not realize who you were. I was weak by that point, drained of energy by maintaining the Ghost Fence and holding Baar Dau aloft in the sky. Each day, Dagoth Ur waxed while I waned."

"He was drawing more and more energy out of the Heart of Lorkhan," I say.

"He was closer to it, and I could no longer access it directly," Vivec says. "Even if you hadn't aided him, it would have been inevitable barring outside intervention."

"I can't possibly be the only one capable of saving the fucking world," I mutter. "And I hate to say this, but I _still_ don't entirely think he was wrong. He was my friend, once."

"And now he is mad," Vivec says. "Now he seeks to bring death and destruction upon the world."

"We are all mad here," I say. "Mad as hatters and talking rabbits."

"Did you just come here to explain why you killed me?" Vivec says. "Was it not simply revenge?"

"Nothing is ever simple," I say. "And revenge… No. Revenge led me down a dark path that ended in me trying to fight my own father and realizing who he was almost too late."

"Your father?" Vivec says, raising an eyebrow. "Do the prophecies not proclaim you an orphan?"

I snort softly. "Complicated. Time shenanigans. I erased that timeline out of existence with Azura's help, effectively making me time's orphan. I literally have no parents now. I simply sprang into existence from another universe."

"I see," Vivec says. "I suppose it would stand to reason that Azura has her fingers in this all."

"Once we were done with _that_ , she sent me back _here_ ," I explain. "She said she'd promised that I would return. It's kind of annoying, but she _did_ help me, after all."

"Why did you erase that timeline?" Vivec asks.

I chuckle. "Most people would be asking 'What the fuck, how would you even do that?' But given that you're, well, you… Okay. I suppose I can try to explain what happened. And since my friends tend to kick me and tell me I can summarize things, I'll give you the short version." I take a deep breath. "There was an insane werewolf by the name of Jez'kai. He'd found a way to retroactively make himself a god. Even in the past, long before he was ever supposed to have gotten access to the method of apotheosis he used, he already had divine power."

Vivec just nods sagely as if he knows exactly what I'm talking about, and motions me to continue.

"In one doomed future he'd shut off rebirth, shut off alternate timelines, shut off almost all magic, and was harvesting souls into his own private hell realm. Needless to say, I did not want to see that future come to pass, but I couldn't affect him from the time he was in because of all the shit he'd done. So I kind of… split the universe." I chuckle softly. "Okay, that probably sounds impressive and all, but I'll be honest that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing at the time and am still not entirely certain how I did it. But I _really_ didn't want to see that future, so I called upon the regrets of the people whose lives Jez'kai had destroyed to give me the power to do what needed to be done. He was invincible and immortal, so I created a universe from which he could be defeated." I put my face in my palm. "I don't think I'm making any sense here."

"No, I understand what you're saying perfectly well," Vivec says.

"Right, at least one of us does," I say. "So, this basically just gave an opportunity to do something about Jez'kai. That timeline still existed, and all versions of Jez'kai had divine power throughout the multiverse. So I traveled through time, learned many things, enlisted the aid of a bunch of mages, werewolves, and a Daedric Prince, and performed a ritual that effectively deleted that future and prevented any possibility of that particular murderous lunatic from ever retroactively giving himself divinity. And that was how I wound up back on Nirn."

"Makes sense," Vivec says.

"To be fair, it makes more sense than half the stuff in your sermons, but then, also to be fair, I know the context behind it. I'd imagine if I were to go into detail about it, it would not sound any more odd."

"It sounds like it would make for a fine ballad," Vivec says, quirking a grin.

"I can go into detail later if you really want to," I say. "But right now, I wanted to know if you had any thoughts as to how to deal with Dagoth Ur."

"I have spent much time, even in its twisting, turning way, considering an answer to this puzzle," Vivec says. "But in the end, I believe there is only one viable solution. The tools of Kagrenac must be retrieved and the Heart of Lorkhan destroyed."

"What," I say. "Wait a minute. You want to destroy the heart of a dead god, which has a whole host of weirdness it spews out all on its own? How long exactly did you spend thinking about this to even consider this as being a good idea? Who knows what that might cause? It might just make Red Mountain erupt on the spot and wipe out the whole island."

"I have considered the possibilities," Vivec says. "And the destruction of the Heart would also, of necessity, result in the loss of divinity for myself and the other Tribunes. I am, however, prepared to give it up."

"I don't like it," I say.

"You came here searching for an answer and I have given you one," Vivec says.

"You have," I say. "But it's not the only answer. There are always choices."

"I had a feeling you might say that," Vivec says. "Do you have a better idea?"

"I don't," I say. "But I'm sure I can come up with one."

"But will you come up with one in time?" Vivec asks. "I can only hold out so much longer."

"I have all the time in the multiverse," I say.

"Can you stand by and watch suffering you could have prevented?" Vivec asks.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "But I will keep trying until I get it right. That's what I always do."

"Swear to me that you will find a way to defeat Dagoth Ur and protect Morrowind and its people," Vivec says. "Whether in this life or the next. By whatever means necessary."

"I don't exactly swear oaths lightly," I say.

"I know," Vivec says. "So I will trust that if you say you will do something, then you will surely try your best at accomplishing it, until you forget you were trying to accomplish it."

"And I'm not going to forget this time," I say. "But so be it, then. I never really intended to do anything else. I knew I would not be able to stay on the sidelines while the world burned around me. I do so swear."

"Then take Wraithguard," Vivec says, offering me a gauntlet. "And do what you will with it."

"Very well," I say.

"I will teach you how to use it," Vivec says. "This will only take a moment. Don't be alarmed."

A sense of disorientation washes over me, then total darkness. Despite his warning, I am alarmed anyway. Frantically, I reach out my senses to find some frame of reference, and feel the positions of the sun, moons, and stars. They're holding themselves completely still, their movement halted.

"You are still aware?" asks Vivec's voice out of nowhere, with a touch of surprise.

"Yeah," I reply. "Should I not be?"

"I took you out of time to avoid the unpleasantness of learning how to use Wraithguard," Vivec says. "I expected that you would not even be aware of it. But it seems your mastery over Time is greater than I had anticipated."

"I'm working on it," I say. "It's not like I did this _intentionally_. It's not like I still manage to do most of what I do with Time intentionally."

"Regardless, it does mean that I cannot spare you this," Vivec says.

"I can handle it," I say.

"As you say," Vivec says. "Steel yourself, then."

Excruciating pain floods my body, my mind, my soul. Both eternity and one single moment. Mercifully, the pain is enough to cause me to lose my focus and awareness of the world outside of time. When I come to my senses again, I'm back in Vivec's palace standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry to have had to cause you suffering," Vivec says.

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. I took it upon myself. That was my own choice."

"Was that all you came to ask me about, truly?" Vivec asks. "A plan to foil the enemy?"

"Not at all," I say. "I want to know about the life that was."

"Not why I supposedly murdered you?" Vivec asks. "Not why I had the Temple persecute you and slay any who claimed to be you?"

"That's only good sense," I say. "If I'm really me, I wouldn't stay dead. It seems a perfectly good way to make sure I'm actually me. As for whether or not you murdered me? You both did and didn't, and neither matters. I've told people to kill me before. I've killed myself plenty of times. It's very likely that in at least one timeline, I asked you to kill me so that I could change something terrible that had happened."

"I suppose it should not surprise me that you don't think much of your own death," Vivec says. "As Rispy was fond of saying, 'Have I told you lately that you're insane?'"

I giggle insanely at that.

"Do you remember Rispy?" Vivec asks.

"He's here with me," I say. "He came with me. He stayed with me throughout everything. He's seen all the strange things I've been through. And he won't tell me a word of it."

"It figures," Vivec says. "He never said much, and so history has forgotten him. It has forgotten the young Ashlander who refused to leave your side and followed you into hell."

"Was that your doing?" I ask.

"In part," Vivec says. "He didn't wish to be known or remembered, and so I respected that. Just a passing shadow."

"Tell me about that life," I say.

"If you have read my sermons, then you have seen a good part of it."

I grunt. "Surely you at least remember it."

"I can remember being mortal, if I choose," Vivec says. "I do not often choose."

"Why not?" I ask.

"Mortality is a very sad thing," Vivec says. "I prefer to remember the happy days."

"The happy days hold no meaning without the sad ones," I say. "There is no courage without fear. There is no light without the shadow. And there is no wisdom without regret. I could not regret what I could not remember."

"I don't experience much feeling any longer," Vivec says.

"That is a very sad thing," I say. "If that's the case, then I suppose I can see why you might welcome mortality again. But I would prefer a world where no one had to die."

Vivec chuckles softly. "That's quite the dream. A noble one. Cherish it. Perhaps one day you might find a way to make it a reality."

"Let me ask you one question, if you will tell me nothing else of my life as Nerevar but what you have already written. And promise me you will answer truthfully, please."

"Very well," Vivec says. "I see no need to deceive you, regardless. I am not a manipulative Daedric Prince who tells you little of what they expect of you."

"Then tell me, Vehk," I say. "Did I ever hit on you?"

Vivec looks at me for one long moment, then starts laughing so hard that he stops levitating and falls to the floor. " _All the time_. I think you were more interested in _me_ than your own wife."

* * *

"So we're going after Dagoth Ur after all?" Kirlin asks.

"Are you certain this is wise?" Tom asks.

I snort softly. "No, but I gave him my word."

"You gave him your word to defeat Dagoth and protect Morrowind, not to complete this particular plan," Tom says. "You recall what happened last time you messed with the Heart of Lorkhan. What might happen this time? We all be wiped from existence like the Dwemer?"

"I think he hasn't told you everything," Luna says quietly.

"He hardly told me _anything_ ," I say.

"I don't like this plan," Tom says. "It's too risky."

"Anything involving the Heart of Lorkhan is going to be risky," I say. "And yet this has to be dealt with _somehow_."

"Why?" Tom says. "Why does it have to be dealt with? We don't have to get involved."

"Azura sent me to—"

"Fuck Azura," Tom says. "We owe her nothing. Yes, she helped us save the universe, but it should have never been our duty to save the universe in the first place. Saving the universe was hardly altruistic to either her or us. It was just something that needed to be done."

"She didn't demand that I come here and solve all this world's problems," I say. "She just expected that I would wind up doing it anyway."

Tom sighs. "So long as you're doing this of your own free will and not out of a sense of obligation to a Daedric Prince who had no altruistic intentions herself."

"Always," I say. "Now, we might not trust Vivec, but I don't think he was actually lying to me in this case."

"Fine," Tom says. "If you're set on this mad course of action, then I will not stop you. I have given my warnings." Without sparing another word, he strides out of the room.

I grumble, "I didn't say I was going to do it _right now_."

"Eh, he'll get over it," Gellert says. "Where are you going?"

"Caius," I say, rising to my feet. "You coming, or…?"

"Nah," Gellert says. "You have fun with the half-naked guy."

* * *

"Glad to see you back, Lexen," Caius says. "I was afraid you'd just wind up having to come back to an empty house and a note."

"Why, did something come up?" I ask.

Caius nods. "I'm being recalled to the Imperial City."

"That was sudden," I say.

"Yes, it was," Caius says. "I don't know the details right now myself. How did things go with Vivec?"

I show him Wraithguard. "We hashed out a really stupid plan, and he gave me this, that will supposedly help with it. I'm really shaky on this plan but I didn't have anything better right now, so I'm going to try it." I sigh. "You know what this means. If I disappear, or things get worse, you guys are on your own to deal with the fallout, and I have no idea how you might be able to manage that."

"Understood," Caius says. "Don't worry about us. If worse comes to worst, we'll figure something out, one way or another. I'm sure you'll do your best. Divines go with you."

I nod tersely. "Thank you."

* * *

I want through Ghostgate, unprepared, alone aside from Gellert and Rispy at my sides and Luna and Hermione at my back. The other team had gone in first to try to scout out the area and identify the locations of the dagger Keening and the hammer Sunder that would be required to go along with Wraithguard. Tom had been reluctant to go along with this all, but Sirius wound up talking him into it anyway.

"You ready for this?" Rispy asks.

"No," I reply honestly. "Let's go."

We put up spells to try to protect ourselves from breathing in the blighted ash of Red Mountain, for whatever good it will do where we're going. Along the way, we meet up with the other team.

"We were able to retrieve Keening and Sunder," Tom says, levitating them over to me.

I nod, and pluck them out of the air with Wraithguard. "Great. You didn't run into too much trouble?"

"Nah," Sirius says. "They never saw us coming. Keening was just lying around waiting to be taken. And Sunder… well…"

"He pickpocketed Sunder," Tom says flatly.

" _How_?" I wonder.

Sirius gives a shit-eating grin.

"Right then," I say with a smirk. "Alright, master thief, let's head inside. We've got ourselves a god to kill."

I think back on how Voryn Dagoth greeted me warmly and welcomed me as a friend, even as his followers tried to kill me and infected me with a disease that pushed me toward coming to him. This could all end very, very badly, and I'm not too ashamed to say that I'm afraid. I don't really want to mess around with the Heart of Lorkhan again if I can help it. But I have no better options right now.

We storm Dagoth Ur's fortress and fight our way past twisted ash creatures, many of which having tentacles where their faces should be. How did I not notice that before? How did I _forget_ the face tentacle thing? They gouged out their eyes, their face, and planted those _things_ in there. I'm finally starting to reconsider whether it was really such a good idea to have joined up with Dagoth Ur, and whether or not he was truly right or had the best vision of the future of the world in mind.

Dagoth Ur's voice echoes through the corridors as we descend, but I ignore it. I don't need his blandishments. I know what he's up to, now. If he was ever truly my friend, either he was corrupted or driven mad by the Heart of Lorkhan, or simply flew off the slippery slope of his own volition. And it seems that, unlike Vivec, he does not remember our previous interaction, or if he does, he makes no indication thereof. That's reassuring, very much so. I'd gotten worried when I realized Vivec knew, but the Sixth House cultists had left me alone. Why did Vivec remember when Dagoth Ur didn't? Was it because of what he did with the Heart of Lorkhan? Or is Vivec just more awesome than he is?

I take a Magic Nap after defeating the last of the tentacle-faced Ascended Sleepers. Though our map is going haywire at the moment, Luna indicates that Dagoth Ur is in the next room. The Heart Chamber.

I don't see a friend this time, when we step into the room. I kind of wish that I could. But the man in the golden mask is no friend to me, nor to anyone else in Morrowind.

"You are a very persistent lot," Dagoth Ur says. "Who _are_ you that you have made it this far?"

"Azura sent us," I say smoothly. He doesn't need to know who I am, if he doesn't already.

"Champions of Azura," Dagoth Ur scoffs. "Did she grant you powers beyond those of common mortals? They will not help you. You cannot slay a god."

As it turns out, a god is far more powerful than we had anticipated. We put up a fight, but it still doesn't take long before he wipes the floor with us.

* * *

We find ourselves outside the room again, and undeterred, we storm inside. We don't actually need to kill him. We just need to distract him long enough so that someone can get in there and destroy the Heart.

"What is this?" Dagoth Ur says, pausing to stare at us as we stride inside.

That's… different. Why did he address us differently this time?

"Azura sent us," I say firmly.

"I see," Dagoth Ur. "Pawns of a Daedric Prince, I would think you pathetic but there is something distinctly odd about you. No matter. I will destroy you anyway."

* * *

"He saw through my Chameleon spell," Sirius complains. " _Nobody_ sees through my Chameleon spells!"

"He does have divine power, you know," Tom says.

"Quit your whinging and let's get on with this," Abraxas mutters.

We step into the Heart Chamber again.

"You," Dagoth Ur says. "I _killed_ you, I know I did!"

Oh shit.

"Have you been having visions?" I say, trying not to seem shocked. "Fantasizing about crushing us?"

"It was no mere vision," Dagoth Ur says. "Who _are_ you?"

"Azura sent us," I say, doggedly continuing to repeat that line.

"Something is not right here," Dagoth Ur mutters. He spins about to find Sirius under a Chameleon spell again trying to take advantage of Dagoth Ur's momentary distraction, even if that distraction is in puzzling out what's going on rather than actually fighting us. "And what do you think _you're_ doing?" He hurls Sirius into the lava.

* * *

"Ow," Sirius mutters.

"You do know how to levitate, don't you?" Tom asks.

" _You_ try getting off a levitation spell while you're upside down plunging fast at a pool of molten lava," Sirius says.

"We're underground," I say. "Shouldn't it be magma?"

"I don't care what you call it," Sirius says with a smirk. "It is rocks that are on fire!"

"Rocks that _are_ fire, really," Remus says.

We head back into the Heart Chamber, where Dagoth Ur is still waiting for us.

"I see how this is," Dagoth Ur says. "You also have some means of resurrection when you die." He chuckles. "Don't even bother to deny it. However you did it, you are fools if you think this makes you invulnerable."

Fuck.

It takes him more effort to disable him without killing us, but we're still vastly outclassed. I lay on the ground, broken and drained, barely conscious, vaguely aware that most of my friends are out cold. And then he discovers what we were carrying.

"You brought Wraithguard?" Dagoth Ur says. "You brought Kagrenac's tools? Did Azura tell you to bring them to destroy them by casting them into the lava? Or magma?" He chuckles.

"Guys, I think he heard us," I comment weakly.

Dagoth Ur continues to chuckle. "Or did you intend to use them yourselves, regardless of what you might have promised to your patron Prince? No matter. I thank you for bringing me Wraithguard, and in gratitude I shall grant you your lives, because you are getting rather annoying to kill. But of course, I can't have you keep interfering with me, with your feeble attempts."

Darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake on a prison ship.

"Wake up," Jiub is saying. "Wake up, we're almost there. Are you alright?"


	28. Harry Potter

As I walk out of the prison ship and onto the dock in a daze, I think back to what must have happened. Either he hit me with some sort of killing spell, or he knocked me unconscious long enough for him to use the tools of Kagrenac on the Heart of Lorkhan to try to activate his god-golem. I'm not sure that killing magic exists in this universe, but… maybe it was a soul trap? Someone trying to soul trap me might certainly trigger my Time Magic defenses. I think it most likely, though, that he used the tools of Kagrenac.

"Hey," a guard is saying. "Are you with me here?"

"Sorry, what?" I say. "Just a little disoriented."

"I was asking you for our records where you're from," the guard says.

"Oh, right," I say. "I was born in northern Elsweyr, strange as that might sound. My mother was there on a trip when I was born. I don't remember it at all, though. She brought me back to High Rock before I was even a year old. So, do you want to put down that I'm from Bangkorai?"

Fortunately I'd looked at a map since my first loop here. The guard doesn't seem to care in the least bit about my fake backstory and just nods and writes something down. "I'm sure you'll fit right in here. Now, just head into the building at the end of the docks to fill out some paperwork, and then you'll be free to go."

"Okay, thanks," I say.

Inside the building, an old balding man named Socucius Ergalla waits by a desk with sheaves of paper. "There you are. We've been expecting you. Could I get your name and occupation for our records?"

"Harry Potter," I reply. "And I don't really have an _occupation_ at the moment seeing as I just got released from prison, but I'm trained as a battlemage."

"Very good," Socucius says, not even batting an eye at the name I just gave him. Huh. "Now, the letter we received regarding you said that you were born under a certain sign but didn't mention which sign that was. When were you born?"

"The last day of the seventh month," I reply.

"Thirty-first of Sun's Height?" Socucius says. "The Apprentice, then? Or would that be the Serpent?"

"The Apprentice, of course," I say, wondering just what would happen with me blatantly giving different information about myself this time.

He writes some things down and hands me a scroll. "Now, take this paperwork to Sellus Gravius in the next building and he'll finish your release."

I nod and head straight through the building, not even bothering to stop and try to swipe anything. What's the point? Nothing in here is going to be worth much anyway, and it's not like nobody will notice if my pants are stuffed with tableware. I'd like to think petty thievery for a few drakes is kind of beneath me. I'll leave that to Sirius. And I know a few ways to get much more money quickly, anyway. I do stop to retrieve Fargoth's ring from the barrel. That discount might be useful.

Sellus Gravius takes my papers and gives me a dispensation, the same amount of coins he gave me last time, and tells me to take a package to Caius Cosades in Balmora. I have no intention of doing so just yet, but I just nod and head outside anyway. I return the ring to Fargoth and head out into the swamp.

After some searching, I locate the body of the murdered taxman and collect his gold and tax records. While doing so, I'm quietly freaking out about the events of the last loop and wondering just _how_ I'm going to deal with Dagoth Ur. I can't ignore him forever. I have to actually face this duty I've taken upon myself. It seems like an insurmountable problem. Right now, though, the least I can do is bring a murderer to justice and get myself some pocket money.

I don't quite remember exactly which house belonged to the murderer, or indeed even what his name was, so I just barge into a couple houses and say, "I'm looking for information about the missing taxman."

It only takes me two houses to find one Foryn Gilnith who attacks me on sight for mentioning the taxman while bragging about having killed him. I might not have been able to defeat a god, but I can definitely defeat one unarmed moron. I electrocute him, pick up a ring from his body as well as anything in his house I think might be worth anything, and head outside. I take it over to the lighthouse and tell the woman there what happened to her husband and give her the ring, then go to the Census and Excise office to collect my reward.

"Murdered, you say?" Socucius says. "Unfortunate. It's good that you were able to locate the culprit and bring him to justice. You retrieved the tax money, then?"

Right, it would probably look more than a little suspicious if I didn't turn over the tax money, especially since I just murdered a man and claimed he was a murderer. "Yes, it should all be here, unless he spent some or stashed some someplace else." I hand him the money pouch I'd taken off of the taxman as well as the records.

Socucius takes it and counts out the money, and nods. "It appears that he hadn't. It's all accounted for here. On behalf of the Emperor, I thank you for helping keep order here. As a reward for your service to the empire, I'm awarding you a bounty of five hundred septims."

Even with handing over the tax money, that still puts me up three hundred. It's a good start. Time to head down to the tradehouse to buy myself some supplies. As I'm getting myself some lunch, a Nord approaches me.

"Hey, new in town?" he asks. "Name's Hrisskar Flat-Foot. What's yours, kid?"

"Harry Potter," I reply. "Do I really look that young to you?"

Hrisskar snickers. "You can't have seen more than, what, seventeen, eighteen winters?"

I shrug. "What's it to you? I can handle myself. I'm no 'milk-drinker' as you Nords might say."

Hrisskar barks a laugh and slaps me on the back. "Maybe you can help me, then. You think you can do something for me?" He pauses expectantly, and I motion him to continue. "You see, I'm looking to recover a bit of coin. Fargoth owes me money, and I think he's stashing it somewhere. See where he goes at night."

"Sure," I say.

"Great!" Hrisskar says. "Let me know if you find anything."

I quickly finish eating and head out of town. I arrive a little too late to see a hapless mage fall out of the sky onto the path through the swamp north of town, but before anyone else can stumble past the body. I shamelessly loot all his possessions and shove them into my pack, then dump the body into the water nearby to avoid anyone wondering why there's a naked guy laying on the path.

I clear out the smuggler's den near town and free the slaves as well as helping myself to their ill-gotten goods. It's getting dark by the time I get done, so I climb up the lighthouse and settle in for a bit to watch over the town.

As I sit there waiting with my legs dangling over the edge, my thoughts can't help but drift back to my entire situation. What in Oblivion am I even doing? Setting up some available resources for this upcoming loop, of course. But it all seems so pointless. Vivec's plan failed. Or maybe it wasn't so much the plan, but that _we_ failed. We were woefully unprepared for what we had to face, and I failed to anticipate that Dagoth Ur might remember anything seeing as he'd given no indication of having done so before. Was that it? Was it less that he wouldn't have remembered, and more that having used the Heart of Lorkhan to try to activate his golem caused him to forget the events of the first loop somehow? Would that happen again? I hope so. But that's part of the reason why I'm dicking around in the swamp and not rushing to Vivec or Caius or my companions. I want to take it easy and see if there's any indications of Dagoth Ur doing anything differently.

Fargoth comes out into the streets below, with a torch, and attempts to sneak around. With a torch? Seriously? Okay, that's just stupid enough to get robbed. After sneaking around for a bit, Fargoth bends down near a tree stump in the middle of a shallow, mucky pond, then wanders off again, failing badly at being nonchalant about it.

Rolling my eyes, I climb down a barren tree beside the lighthouse and go over to the stump. A few hundred drakes, a lockpick, and that ring I'd given back to him earlier. I'm keeping the damned thing this time. Hey, I never claimed to be a saint. Wait, there's shrines to Saint Nerevar. I guess I technically _am_ a saint. Not going to give this money back to Hrisskar, either. I need it right now, and I doubt he's got anything worth getting out of it.

Casting a Magic Nap, to dispel fatigue more than anything else, I head out into the swamp one more time and leave this village behind.

* * *

"We failed," Tom says flatly.

I just nod in agreement and sigh.

"I would give you a point by point analysis on exactly why, but I think first off you need to stop moping," Tom says.

I snort softly. "Let's discuss how to succeed instead of how we failed."

"It was not a total loss," Tom says. "We know not to rely on our enemy forgetting what we did, for instance."

"He was too powerful," I say. "We need to find a way to weaken him, somehow."

"You spent months playing with your toys rather than preparing for anything or gathering information," Tom says. "You barely even bothered gaining any rank in the factions you'd joined. Did you ever even complete the Temple pilgrimage?"

"Can we turn these statements into positive suggestions?" I say. "Are you saying I should spend more time preparing and gathering information, rising in rank in factions, and completing pilgrimages?"

Tom grunts. "That might be a start. And we can't just avoid Dagoth Ur. Maybe if we'd spent some of that time fighting his forces, he would have been weaker."

I nod distantly. "Yeah. True."

"So, are you ready to do this?" Tom asks. "Take the fight to Dagoth Ur?"

I grunt. "Yeah, I guess."

Tom gives a reptilian smirk. "You're not being very convincing there."

"Ask me again tomorrow," I say. "I'm going to see Caius Cosades. And then probably Vivec."

"Very well," Tom says.

* * *

One Almsivi Intervention spell later leaves me in Balmora making my way to Caius' place.

"Caius Cosades?" I say.

"That's me," he says, looking up at me with exaggerated bleariness. "What do you need?"

"I have a coded message for you," I say. "Two of them, in fact."

The skooma-addict persona drops away like a curtain. "Let me see."

I lay out on the table in front of him the package Sellus Gravius in Seyda Neen had given me, as well as the message from his alternate self that I'd written out before coming here. I stand by as Caius decodes the first message, sets it aside, then gets to work on the second.

"Lexen Skywalker?" Caius says.

I nod. "I'm going by the alias Harry Potter at the moment, but yes."

"This message is… from myself?" Caius says.

"Yes," I say.

Caius scowls deeply. "Go see about getting a cover set up if you haven't already and come back in the morning. I need a moment to process this."

I nod. "I understand."

I head out again back across the river and to the Mages Guild.

"Good day," says Ranis, the bitch of a guild chapter leader who I'd almost forgotten about. "Are you looking to join the Mages Guild?"

"Yes, absolutely," I say with forced cheerfulness. "I have heard many good things about your fine organization and the breadth of your magical knowledge."

"Very well, then, you are now a member of the Mages Guild," Ranis says. "Our trainers are down on the lower floor. See Ajira for guild tasks."

What, she's not even going to make me swear any oaths? I guess flattery does have its benefits. I make my way down the ramp and spot Hermione reading at one of the tables.

"Hello," I say brightly. "Do you mind if I sit here? I'm Harry Potter. I just joined up."

"By all means. I'm Hermione. I'm pretty new here, too."

"What are you reading?" I ask.

Hermione sighs and shoves aside the book, which appears to be _Where Were You When the Dragon Broke?_ "Nothing, now. I've looked all over and nothing here is giving me the answers I'm looking for. I don't think I'm going to find it here. I even looked in the bookstore across the street, but nothing there looked promising, either."

"What are you looking for?" I ask. "Maybe I can help. Dragon Breaks, I'm guessing?"

Hermione nods. "But there's nothing here but third-hand accounts and nothing substantial."

"I hear there's a rare book store in Vivec," I say. "I'm just about to head that way myself."

Hermione perks up. "I'll have to take a look."

* * *

We take the Guild Guide over to Vivec, at which point I cast another Almsivi Intervention because there's no way I'm walking all the way across town to Vivec's palace, leaving Hermione behind for the moment. I stride up the stairs purposefully and help myself inside with a shout.

Vivec, hovering in the middle of the room as usual, asks, "Could you at least lock the door behind you when you do that?"

I snicker. "Sorry, Vehk, I'm more about opening things than locking things." I turn and telekinetically push it closed. "I can at least do that much, though."

"Did you just come to chat, or did you have a question or request?" Vivec asks wearily.

"What do you remember of the other time?" I ask.

"I remember plenty of things of different times," Vivec says. "What specifically are you referring to?"

"I came to you in an alternate timeline," I say. "I identified myself as Nerevar. You gave me Wraithguard and sent me to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan. I went there with my companions and we confronted Dagoth Ur, but we were unable to get past him to even get to the heart, and he kept remembering what we were doing. He was way too powerful and defeated us easily, over and over, until he realized we were just coming back to life and he knocked us out instead. And… I don't know what happened next, but I woke back in the past again and I don't know if he'll remember that now."

"I see," Vivec says, letting out a heavy breath. "Unfortunate. But I don't expect you to be the match of one who has taken so much power from the Heart of Lorkhan, even if he has not had access to Wraithguard."

"I need to find some way to weaken him," I say.

Vivec nods. "Gather allies. Slay his followers. Each one who falls may take a small portion of his power with them, especially his higher lieutenants."

"I have allies," I say. "My companions and I intend to take the fight to his followers this time around."

"Not just those," Vivec says. "Don't underestimate the power of faith. Faith is what alone keeps this city from being destroyed even as my power wanes from Dagoth Ur siphoning it away from me. Don't rely on the powers of one, or the powers of a handful. You need to sway every living being in Morrowind who you can to support you."

"What, have the various factions help clear out Sixth House strongholds?" I ask.

"Not just that," Vivec says. "Their very support of you will length you strength."

"I don't understand," I say.

Vivec sighs. "Win the hearts of the people. Their energy will aid you."

"Alright, I'll take your word on it, then," I say. "Before I go fulfilling prophecies or whatever, though, can we talk about that huge fucking rock in the sky?"

"It remains as a symbol of my love and power, and inspires the people," Vivec says.

"Love, under your will only?" I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. "Before I go deal with Dagoth Ur, I want you to deal with _that_ thing."

"Its momentum is merely paused," Vivec says. "It still remembers its last intent, and should I attempt to change it, it will come crashing down into the city with the same velocity it came down to Nirn with."

"You hollowed it out to put your prisons in it," I say. "Surely that means you can remove material from it safely. Evacuate the people from it and carve it up if you have to."

"That would take time, to carve up something that size," Vivec says.

"Yes, it would," I say. "Take whatever time is necessary, but please _do_ it? I swore to you that I would protect the people of Morrowind, and _this_ is protecting the people of Morrowind. I would be remiss in that oath if I were to cut off the source of power that is keeping that rock from destroying this city."

Vivec laughs aloud. "You are bold to bargain with a god."

"Yeah, well, you know as well as I do that you were not born a god, Vehk," I say with a smirk.

"Very well," Vivec says. "I will see what can be done about Baar Dau."

"That's all I can ask," I say.

* * *

I start settling in and signing up for various factions. Thieves Guild. Fighters Guild. House Telvanni. Tribunal Temple. I don't bother with the Imperial Cult or the Imperial Legion, as I don't really think they'd help my purpose here nearly as much as the others and might just hurt it inadvertently. I debrief Caius, make contact with my friends, and quietly rescue Rispy. Tom hasn't started on recreating the magic yurt, and instead we've set up a temporary base in Hlormaren to discuss plans for the loop first once everyone has arrived. Abraxas turns up far sooner than I might have expected considering his starting position on the other side of Tamriel. He clearly doesn't want to be left out of everything again.

"We're taking over the propylon network again," Tom says.

I grunt. "I suppose if we're no longer avoiding the Sixth House, taking out Telasero should be fine."

"You don't have to go in there if you don't want to," Tom says. "I can always just amass a small army of undead and have _them_ clear the stronghold. The dead can't get corprus."

"That would probably be wise," I say. "That was a nasty place and we were not prepared for it at all at the time we needed it."

"And I am _not_ joining House Redoran," Rispy says firmly. "I'd rather pretend to be a fucking slave than that."

"Were they really that bad?" I ask.

"No, not really," Rispy says with a sigh. "It just didn't feel right."

"You said Vivec suggested that you win over the hearts of the people," Tom says. "Perhaps the best way to accomplish this, aside from looking into these prophecies, is to take over all the factions."

I snort softly. "Seriously? That could take years."

"Perhaps, but they haven't been in Vvardenfell very long, either," Tom says. "Their leadership may be weak. Also, fighting the Sixth House forces will probably buy us time as well."

"This is kind of a silly idea, but if you guys think it's doable, then pick a faction each I guess," I say. "I doubt they'd let one person become the leader of _every_ faction in Vvardenfell."

"Yeah, you can't join more than one Great House," Gellert says lightly.

"Political maneuvering was never really one of my great interests," Kirlin says. "But since it's for a good cause, I won't object. Seeing as I'm already an established member of the Temple, and I doubt the rest of you are all that inclined toward it, I'll see what I can do to gain rank with it."

"I'll do the Fighters Guild," Rispy puts in quickly before anyone can suggest he join Redoran again.

"Like Kirlin, I was already a member of a faction," Hermione says. "So I'll look into the Mages Guild."

"Likewise, Thieves Guild for me," Sirius says. "I'm sure my Imperial City compatriots would either put in a good word or deny any association with me, either one."

"House Telvanni," Tom, Gellert, and Abraxas say simultaneously.

Tom snorts in amusement.

"I'll fight you for it," Abraxas says, glaring at the two of them.

"No one is going to make you join House Redoran, Abraxas," Tom says.

"You guys can argue over that," Remus says. "I'll join up with the Imperial Legion. There's a lot of other orcs with them."

"I'll do the Imperial Cult," Luna says brightly.

"That's rich," Gellert says. "You don't think they'll notice that you're a Daedra worshipper?"

"The Nine Divines are a welcoming sort," Luna says.

I put my face in my palm. "I don't think this is going to work. And someone's going to have to double up on something, I think."

"Well, I didn't mind House Hlaalu," Sirius says. "And it's not like anyone's supposed to _know_ I'm a member of the Thieves Guild."

"Whoever finds the Morag Tong can join up with them," I say.

"Me, Tom, and Gellert, fight," Abraxas says. "Loser has to join House Redoran."

"Oh, come on, now that's not even fair," Gellert says.

"Like _you_ can talk about fair, Gellert Grindelwald?" Abraxas says.

"I am not particularly martially inclined," Tom says. "Nor are you, Abraxas. Gellert, however, having spent his pre-Awakening years as a Nord Muggle, is."

"Talos' balls," Gellert gripes. "Make Remus do it!"

"What, do you think you can't beat me in a fight?" Abraxas says.

"Oh, now _that's_ it," Gellert says. "Let's take this outside."

"Let's go, then," Abraxas says. "Tom?"

"Yes, let's do this," Tom says with a reptilian grin.

"You are all insane," Rispy comments.

* * *

We arrange an audience on the upper level of Hlormaren as the would-be combatants take position below. The skies are cloudy, but it doesn't look like it's about to rain at the moment. I take a Magic Nap before anyone starts slinging spells because I just know these idiots are going to actually kill one another over this. My friends are placing bets, and someone managed to find some popcorn.

"I can't believe they're actually doing this," Kirlin mutters. "This is very irresponsible."

"You know who you're talking about, right?" Sirius says with a smirk.

It's probably a good thing we already cleared out Hlormaren. The fighting is intense, and the three of them cheat heavily and kill one another several times. Storms of destructive magic, swarms of summoned creatures, and waves of protective spells wash across the stronghold. And it ends in Gellert's defeat. I'd feel more sorry for him if he did more than just whinge about it.

"Curse my stupid Nord ancestors," Gellert mutters as the three of them come to rejoin the others.

"So, is everything settled, then?" Tom says.

"We're still going to wind up fighting each other again when it comes time to decide who actually gets to be in charge of House Telvanni," Abraxas says.

"That's fine," Tom says. "There will be a vacancy on the council shortly once someone gets around to murdering Mistress Therana."

"I hate you both," Gellert grumbles.

"You say the sweetest things," Tom says lightly.


	29. Prophecies, Revisited

"Now, I've seen and heard of a lot of strange things over the years, but time travel is a new one on me," Caius says. "So do correct me if I've had any misconceptions about this all. Of course, the only other explanation for all the information you've given me on top of my own message would be that you're a mind reader _and_ the best spy in Tamriel. And you've given me quite a lot of information. Although your mention of me being suddenly recalled to the Imperial City is a little worrying."

I nod. "Yeah, you couldn't really tell me anything more about that. If the loop had gone on much longer we might have been able to find out. I think I rushed into things unprepared there."

Caius shakes his head. "I don't blame you for it, considering what you say was happening. It wasn't going to get better. Do you think changing your name might keep him from recognizing you?"

"I'm _hoping_ that he didn't remember any of that at all," I say. "But it was a precaution in case he did. And if he did, I have plenty more bullshit aliases where that came from."

"You said in the first loop you didn't have the chance to fully look into the prophecies or what the Ashlanders had to say," Caius says.

I nod. "Right. You sent me off to deal with Ilunibi and I got infected with corprus, which kind of put a damper on those plans."

"Try looking into that angle again," Caius says. "They might know something of use, and right now what we still need is more information."

I sigh. "You're probably right about that. I've gathered a lot of information so far, but I still feel like I'm missing a lot of pieces to the puzzle. At any rate, my friends and I have made plans for them to infiltrate most of the factions on the island and rise in the ranks in them, and no one knows that we're connected to one another."

"Why does it not surprise me that you have your own spy network already?" Caius comments.

"Some of them are better at it than others…" I grouse.

I decide to approach the Ashlanders the same way I did in the first loop, by rescuing the young man from the cave with the Sixth House creatures and having his father send me to Urshilaku Tribe to ask about the dreams. I don't know that I really need the reference, as it didn't seem to help much last time, but it's something I'd be doing anyway. I still don't like going into Sixth House bases, but then, I'd be worried if I started _enjoying_ it. However much Tom might recommend just clearing them out with undead and staying out of them ourselves, I feel like, in this case at least, I have to be there. Poor Hannat Zainsubani would probably freak out even more if he were rescued by bonewalkers.

Hannat doesn't look too much worse for wear when we cut our way past the ash creatures to reach him. "Thank you for the help. Did my father send you to check up on me?"

I shake my head. "No, we were here to fight these creatures. That we were able to save someone from them was just an extra blessing. Who is your father? I can help you get back to him if you like."

"Hassour Zainsubani," Hannat says. "You can probably find him at the Ald Skar Inn in Ald'ruhn."

I nod. "I know the place. Let me give you a hand, and I'll teleport us over there."

I put an arm around his waist and cast Almsivi Intervention, depositing us neatly outside the temple in Ald'ruhn. From there, I head over with him to the inn and locate his father downstairs.

"Hannat?" Hassour says. "Well, seeing you makes an old man's eyes happy. And who is this? A new friend?"

"My name is Harry Potter," I say, inclining my head toward him.

"He and his friends saved my life, father," Hannat says. "I'd been captured by some sort of strange creatures… they looked like they'd once been people, but had terrible things done to them."

I nod. "My friends and I have been investigating them and trying to find out more about them, what they are and where they came from. I'm glad to have been able to help."

"Dear gods," Hassour mutters. "Thank you, stranger. You've given me a great gift in the life of my son. If there is any way I can ever repay you, you have but to ask."

"I hate to ask, Hannat, after you've been through so much," I say. "But is there anything you can tell me about the ones who captured you? Anything of note, anything strange, beyond that they're obviously monsters? Anything happen to you while you were there?"

Hannat frowns. "I had the strangest dreams. For a moment, when you and your companions came in, I'd almost thought you were another dream. Maybe if I'd been there longer, I would not have been even able to distinguish between the dream and reality."

"What sort of dreams?" Hassour asks quietly, with a touch of alarm.

"It… they're not very clear," Hannat says. "The most vivid thing I remember was a man in a golden mask. He was speaking to me, but I couldn't understand a word he was saying."

"A man in a golden mask?" I repeat, frowning.

"What could this mean?" Hannat asks.

"I don't know," Hassour says. "Only the wise women know the lore of dreams. You should go to the camp of Urshilaku Clan and speak with the wise woman, Nibani Maesa. I would accompany you, but I fear I am too old for the journey."

"I can go with him," I say.

"I could not ask anything more of you, friend," Hassour says. "And my people don't always look kindly on outlanders."

"I'm seeking information myself," I say. "And if your wise woman might be able to tell something, then I must see what I can find out. This is not the first time I have heard mention of strange dreams, nor of the man with the golden mask. But answers… are a fleeting thing, it seems."

Having Hannat go along is a new one, but I suppose since we got to him earlier, he was in better condition when he got out of there. Maybe that will change how they react to me. Hassour tells me a few things about Ashlander courtesy and etiquette that I already know, and I assure him that I'll keep his son safe. Somehow, they still seem to think that I'm the one doing them a favor and not the other way around.

As my friends and I had decided to minimize public appearances between most of us, I head off with Hannat to Urshilaku camp with only Rispy as backup. I don't estimate that I'll need much more for the cliff racers and kagouti that I might encounter along the way, but if the Ashlanders decide to tell me to do something crazy like storm a Sixth House base by myself, I can always call in backup.

For once, it's a clear day in the Ashlands, though I stay on alert since ash storms can blow in out of nowhere without warning. We're fortunate, though, and we also only get the attention of a few blighted cliff racers along the way, which Rispy shoots down.

"The Khajiit is good with that bow," Hannat comments.

"This one has had a lot of practice," Rispy says with a feline grin.

"Ugh, walking through the night without sleep is disorienting even if you've been using magic to make sure we're not tired," Hannat says. "After those dreams, I'm grateful for it, though."

"I could teach you the spell I use myself, if you have any magical inclination," I say.

After having cast it so many times, I could probably cast it while asleep as it is.

"That sounds useful," Hannat says. "Is it difficult?"

"It was a bit tricky to design originally, but I've got it down pretty well now," I say. "Let's see if I can show you, then."

The Ashlander camp is just as hard to find as ever. We do finally locate it near the edge of the water, by which point it's growing late and the sun is fading over the horizon in a blood red dusk. We head in and start speaking with people. While they are, indeed, wary of outlanders such as myself and Rispy, Hannat's presence softens them a little. It still doesn't instantly get us in to speak with the wise woman, though. That would be too easy.

"So," says the Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul. "You must be declared Clanfriend before you may see our wise woman."

"What, even though I'm of your blood?" Hannat asks.

"Yes," Sul-Matuul says. "You were born from one of us, but you have not been through our rituals. You are a child in our eyes who has not gone through passage to adulthood."

"But—"

I hold up my hand. "We'll perform your rites. What would you ask of us?"

"You must go into our burial caves and retrieve the bow that belonged to my father," Sul-Matuul says.

"What?" Hannat says. "That's—"

"Fine," I interject before he can say anything else. "We'll do it. Come on, Hannat, let's go."

I drag Hannat out of the yurt before he can protest any further, and head away from camp in what I think is the general direction of the burial caves without even having stopped to ask for directions. Sul-Matuul's directions would probably have been terrible anyway. Before we go far, I cast a Mark at a point just outside the camp so I can get back there easily without trudging through the Ashlands over and over. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.

"This is silly," Hannat grumbles. "I don't see as how getting bows from ghosts is going to prove anything but that we can deal with ghosts. Now I can see why my father left."

"We'd best do what they ask if we want to get any answers from them," I say.

By the time we locate a cave that might possibly be the burial caverns, an ash storm has started to whip up and we take refuge inside, whether it's the right place or not. It turns out that it is, so we head in and start working our way past the ghosts of the Urshilaku's ancestors. Hannat turns out to be pretty decent in a fight, so Rispy and I hold back a bit and let him handle some of it so that he doesn't feel like he's just tagging along while we do all the work. Between Rispy's Daedric longbow and my lightning bolts, we could have easily destroyed all the ghosts before Hannat could even get close with his dagger.

"Is this it?" Hannat says, holding aloft a bow we retrieved from one of the ghosts. "It doesn't seem like much, compared to Rispy's bow."

Rispy chuckles. "Daedric weapons are hard to match."

I Recall us back to camp. We take the bow to Sul-Matuul, who then declares us friends of the clan and gives us permission to see Nibani Maesa, the wise woman. Without further ado, we head into her yurt, and I let Hannat describe his dreams to her.

"These are dark dreams indeed," Nibani says. "Do not be swayed by the Sharmat's blasphemies, young Hannat. And yet, I do not believe it was simply your own dreams that led you and your outlander companion here."

I tilt my head. "Not entirely, to be sure. By the Sharmat, I take it you are referring to Dagoth Ur? The devil of Red Mountain?"

"Indeed," Nibani says. "What does an outlander know of the Sharmat?"

"I know that he must be fought," I say. "That he spreads blight and disease that will consume Vvardenfell, perhaps even all of Tamriel, if left unchecked. It is a duty that cannot be forsworn."

"You have taken it upon yourself to end the threat posed by the Sharmat?" Nibani says. "You are an ambitious one."

"I've taken it upon myself to protect Morrowind and its people from all threats," I say.

"Including the Empire?" Nibani asks.

I make a face. "Not too thrilled with the Empire at the moment, myself, for that matter."

"How is that?" Nibani says. "Are you not an outlander?"

"'Outlander' does not equate to 'Empire lover'," I point out. "I could have been sent here on a prison ship to get me out of sight after I spoke out against the Empire, for all you know."

"Were you?" Nibani asks.

"No, probably not," I say. "But it's not inconceivable. The Empire is hardly as unified or uniform as it might appear from out here in the Ashlands."

"I'll grant you that I know little of the Empire," Nibani says. "But I'll return that you know little of Morrowind, yourself."

I grunt. "Not so much as I'd like, certainly."

"Why is an outlander so interested in Morrowind's problems?" Nibani asks.

I pause thoughtfully, absently considering what to tell her, as if I hadn't just had hours, days, weeks to consider it. "I'm the Nerevarine."

Nibani blinks. Whatever response she might have expected, that wasn't it. "You believe you are the Nerevarine?"

"No," I say. "I _am_ the Nerevarine. Whatever I believe is irrelevant. I would very much have preferred not to be, but realistically, even if I weren't, I wouldn't have been able to leave well enough alone and not do something to help anyway."

"Is that why you wanted to come here?" Hannat asks.

"It is strange that an outlander makes such a claim," Nibani says. "But regardless, if you are to make this claim, then you must be tested against the prophecies."

"Prophecies," I mutter. "Alright, listen. I'll play along, but before you say another word about prophecies, I really must tell you that prophecies are a lot of guar shit. You've put a lot of stock into them, but all a prophecy can tell you is what _might_ happen, or even what you _hope_ will happen. At best, all a prophecy does is identify something, and often times not even that. And have you ever heard of the phrase 'self-fulfilling prophecy'? People who have heard a prophecy make it come to pass themselves, thereby not really being much of a prophecy to begin with?"

"Outlander, I said I would hear out your claims of being the Nerevarine," Nibani says. "But I will not tolerate you being rude to me in my tent."

I sigh. "I apologize. I don't mean to take it out on you. I just really hate prophecies."

"Why?" Nibani asks.

"Because their very existence and the assumption that they're valid invalidates the notion of free will," I say. "If I do something, if I save the world or destroy it, I want it to be because I chose to, not because I was destined to."

"I see," Nibani says. "Then why did you come here?"

"Because, even if _I_ don't believe in them, others do," I say. "They can be a powerful symbol, for good or ill, and right now, hope is needed more than anything. You've been waiting for a savior, even as things steadily get worse year by year and even day by day. Sometimes someone tries to do something, and fails. And sometimes the world seems so hopeless that you feel like it's inevitable that you'll be consumed by either Dagoth Ur or the Empire if your prophesied savior doesn't come first. Because when things get so bad, how can one imagine them ever getting better?"

"What makes you believe that you _are_ the Nerevarine?" Nibani asks.

"Because," I say. "Dagoth Ur thinks I am. Vivec thinks I am. The Emperor thinks I am. _Rispy_ thinks I am."

"Don't bring me into this," Rispy mutters.

"Sorry," I say.

"And you know it's not just because we all think you are," Rispy says.

"I don't know how to explain this in any way that would take less than half the day," I say.

"You could have explained it to me all the way over here," Hannat comments. "That took more than half a day."

"Yeah, sorry," I say. "It just gets a little exhausting. And I'm still wary of Dagoth Ur finding out about me."

"I guess that's fair," Hannat says. "If he could have seen into my dreams…"

I nod. "I would rather not give him a chance of finding me before I'm ready for him."

"Fine," Nibani says. "Then I will test you against the prophecies. The Nerevarine is said to be born under a certain sign, to uncertain parents."

"And which sign might that be?" I ask curiously.

"The sign of the Serpent, the patron of the lucky and unlucky, of the blessed and the cursed," Nibani says.

I wince. "Yeah. That. I can't seem to get away from that Serpent. But how do you _know_ it's the Serpent, if it's not specifically mentioned in the prophecy? And what day, specifically?"

"The final day of Sun's Dusk," Nibani says.

"I lied to the Imperial doing paperwork when I landed in Vvardenfell," I say. "I told him the wrong birthdate in hopes of throwing off anyone looking for me. You have the right one. Not that I'm entirely sure how you know when I was born, so I'm just going to blame Azura for that one."

"Prophecies," Nibani says with a faint touch of amusement. "And your parents?"

"Don't got any, complicated," I say. "Certainly uncertain, that's for certain."

Nibani nods. "You fulfill that part of the prophecy, to be sure, but that means nothing in and of itself. Many people were born each day, and many people do not know who their parents are. The Nerevarine is also said to be untouched by the effects of disease and age."

"I can change my age at will, actually," I say, giving a quick demonstration.

"Impressive," Nibani says. "What of disease?"

"Well… no," I admit sheepishly.

"Then you are not the Nerevarine," Nibani says.

"No, I'm totally the Nerevarine," I say.

"You are one who might become the Nerevarine," Nibani says.

"Oh, come on, now that just makes no sense whatsoever," I say. "Either I'm Nerevar's incarnation or I'm not, but I can't suddenly start being him if I wasn't to start off with."

"I think she just means the prophecies, Nerevar," Rispy says.

"Are you strictly interpreting 'Nerevarine' as 'person who has _already_ fulfilled the prophecies'?" I ask.

"The prophecies are meant to identify the Nerevarine," Nibani says.

"And where in Oblivion did the term 'Nerevarine' even _come_ from, anyway?" I wonder.

"Nerevar, you're ranting again," Rispy says.

I grunt. "Fine, I'll shut up and listen to these prophecies."

"Who _is_ this Khajiit?" Nibani asks, peering at him.

"This one is Rispy." He gives a half-bow.

"Rispy…" Nibani repeats thoughtfully.

Rispy flicks an ear, looking at her quietly. I wonder for a moment if she actually remembers the name, if the Ashlanders passed down his name throughout history, since according to Vivec and Dagoth Ur, he was indeed still calling himself Rispy at that point. But if she does, she gives no further indication and just turns her attention back toward me.

"I do not have the answers for you," Nibani says. "And I do not understand these signs. Throughout the ages, many prophecies have been lost. People die, people forget, people deliberately do not pass on their knowledge in some cases. If you can find them and bring them to me, perhaps then I can tell you the answers that you seek. Perhaps then I can determine who and what you truly are. There are those among the settled Dunmer who have recorded things into written books. They may have written down the knowledge of the lost prophecies. Seek them out."

"Alright then," I say. "If that is what I must do, then I shall do so."

I still don't see much point in these prophecies, nor what good seeking out _more_ prophecies will do, but I said I'd play along and it's not like I have any better ideas at the moment myself. We head out of the yurt, and I stop and look at the sky, sighing.

"Are you really the Nerevarine?" Hannat asks. "Or a madman?"

"Why can't it be both?" Rispy asks lightly.

I smirk. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Rispy."

"What am I ever going to tell my father…" Hannat mumbles.

* * *

"Are you telling me that I may need to get corprus _intentionally_? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Tom gives a reptilian smirk. "It may be necessary. From my discussions with Divayth Fyr—"

"You know what that shit does to your mind," I mutter. "I'm not going to risk it."

"—he believes it's possible to remove the deleterious effects while keeping the positive ones."

"It's _not worth the risk_ ," I say. "Not for the prophecies, not for these supposed benefits, not for anything."

Tom throws up his hands. "Well, then, let me know if you should ever wind up catching it _accidentally_ , if you insist. I had merely believed that, in a more controlled environment—"

" _No_ ," I say.

"Fine," Tom says.

I storm out of the yurt and stalk off into Balmora. The latest version of the portable pleasure palace isn't nearly as entertaining, anyway. It's missing the giant naked statue of Sanguine, for one thing. I kind of wish they'd put it back. As it is, it being missing is a constant reminder of how badly I've fucked up.

"Have you anything to report?" Caius asks.

"The wise woman of the Urshilaku wants me to seek out the lost prophecies and thinks members of the Temple might have written them down. Any ideas on where to start?"

"Hmm," Caius says, nodding. "The Dissident Priests would be your best bet. I understand you had someone contact a friend of mine by the name of Mehra Milo in a previous loop?"

I nod. "You think she can help?"

"If not, she will probably be able to point you in the right direction," Caius says. "Just be careful not to draw attention to yourself while speaking with her. I would hate for anything to happen to her."

"Understood," I say. "I'm a member of the Temple this loop, so perhaps it won't seem strange for me to be hanging around there. I might as well do the pilgrimages in Vivec while I'm there."

"That will be a decent cover, yes," Caius says.

I head back into my yurt. I know there were pilgrimages in Vivec City, but now I can't remember what they were. Did I even do them before? At any rate, I head down to our library and grab a copy of _The Pilgrim's Path_ , that for some reason we have five copies of. I step through the other gate that Tom had anchored in Hlormaren, and take the propylon network to a stronghold near Vivec. Tom's right in that it really is convenient, and beats paying money to the Mages Guild guides and making them wonder what in Oblivion you're doing all the time. From there, I cast Almsivi Intervention to put me in front of the Vivec temple.

Before heading in to find Mehra Milo, I go to the shrine in front of Vivec's palace and make a donation and pray, then to the shrine under the giant floating rock and offer up a rising force potion there. I make a show of it and take longer than strictly necessary, and ensure that at least a few people are seeing me praying. While kneeling in front of the Shrine of Daring, I gaze up at Baar Dau to try to see if Vivec has held true to his promise yet, but it's hard to tell from down here. The small moon — if it can really be called a moon if it's not orbiting Nirn — does not appear to be missing any pieces, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. He had it carved out from the inside initially, after all, and he might be having people working inside to continue that.

The shrine casts a high-powered levitation spell on me in response to my offerings, which would be much more convenient if I were actually going anywhere but inside the temple right now. I head inside, casually floating along six inches above the ground, and start discreetly casting naming spells at everyone. Fortunately, this close to the Shrine of Daring, nobody really bats an eye at someone floating along the ground. I locate Mehra Milo in the library, and nonchalantly float along pretending to look at bookshelves before approaching her.

"Hello," I say. "Er, blessings of the Three upon you, or something? Is that how it goes? Sorry, I'm kind of new to this. I'm here on pilgrimage. Could you tell me about the Puzzle Canal?" I wish I had some sort of secret hand signal to give her to let her know I'm in some sort of little conspiracy. After innocently chatting with her about innocuous religious topics for a short while, I lean close to look at a book she's standing next to and whisper, "Caius sent me."

Mehra's eyes widen slightly, but she gives no other physical reaction. "Here, if you're looking for information on that, let me show you something you might be interested in…" She gestures at me to follow and leads me away to a more secluded corner.

I cast a privacy spell around us to avoid any eavesdropping. "Thanks for speaking with me. Let me cut to the chase. I need information on the Nerevarine prophecies."

"You don't ask for much," Mehra says. "You should find a copy of _Progress of Truth_ and take it to Caius. It might be hard to find, since it's been banned—"

I hold up a hand to cut her off. "I have three copies of it back home."

And I'm pretty sure someone must have robbed the Temple's secret library again, probably for no reason other than because it's there. It seems like a pointless risk with the potential to draw attention and put the Temple on alert, to me. But I've long since given up on arguing with my friends about things like that, and really don't actually care all that much anyway.

"I see," Mehra says. "You're looking for the lost prophecies?"

I nod. "I'm told that the Dissident Priests may have information on them."

"Yes, they consider it their sacred mission to collect and preserve such information," Mehra says. "We can't really talk in detail about it here…"

"I do have a privacy spell up, just in case," I say.

"I fear I'm being watched," Mehra says. "The Ordinators have had their eye on me lately."

"If it's not safe for you to be here, then let's get you out of here," I say.

"If I were to suddenly disappear from the Temple, it would only confirm their suspicions," Mehra says.

"So go on pilgrimage," I say. "So far as I can tell, Temple members do that all the time."

"This… is true," Mehra says thoughtfully. "Alright. Listen. I can meet you at, hmm… Mount Kand, in three days time. Bring Caius."

I nod. "I can do that," I say, making a mental note to figure out where Mount Kand is.

"Now, go," Mehra says. "We've been seen speaking with one another for too long already."

I head out from the library and over to the Puzzle Canal, where I proceed to get horribly lost wandering around the tunnels and get thoroughly wet. Then I read something about breathing in the waters. What, do they expect me to drown myself? Oh well, I cast a Magic Nap and try it anyway. I'm sure most pilgrims take it as a test of faith. I just take it as a test of whether they're stupid enough to try that. After all, what if it _didn't_ work?

At any rate, it does work, although I don't plan on drowning myself again at any point in the near future because it's really unpleasant even for someone who knows it won't actually kill. I find myself standing on a ledge near a dark, demonic figure. Rather than attacking me, he just seems incredibly bored. A naming spell reveals his name as Krazzt.

"Are you here on pilgrimage?" Krazzt says. "Read the shrine."

"Why in Oblivion are you here?" I wonder.

"Believe me, I would prefer to be in Oblivion," Krazzt replies. "Do you have a silver longsword for me?"

"Right, yeah," I say, pulling out the longsword I'd brought and passing it over to him. "You know, I could get you back to Oblivion."

"By killing me?" Krazzt says wryly. "Don't bother. The shrine will simply summon me again anyway. Just read the inscription to complete your pilgrimage and go."

"Sanguine's balls, that must be obnoxious," I say.

"I do not require your pity, mortal," Krazzt. "I tire of your presence. Finish your pilgrimage and begone."

"Alright, alright," I say.


	30. Lost and Found

"These Telvanni chores are tedious and menial," Abraxas grumbles.

Tom chuckles. "If you don't want the favor for them, you are welcome to bow out whenever you wish."

"Not a chance," Abraxas says. "I will survive."

"Have you guys delivered Therana's skirt yet?" Gellert asks with a grin.

"Not I," Abraxas says. "It seemed tedious and in the middle of nowhere. Why?"

Gellert snickers. "Juuuuust wondering."

Tom sighs. "I will deliver the skirt."

"No way," Abraxas says. "You already took more than your share of available chores. It's my turn."

"I was unaware that we were taking 'turns'," Tom says dryly.

"Well, you still knew what they were going to ask for ahead of time!" Abraxas protests. "No one told _me_!"

Tom rolls his eyes. "If you wish to deliver the skirt, then by all means do so. Lexen will just need to cast a Magic Nap once you arrive in Tel Branora."

I smirk. "I make no promises."

"Ugh, I hate you," Abraxas grumbles.

"Are you sure you want to deliver that skirt, Brax?" Gellert says. "I don't know, it might be too much for you to handle."

"Oh, fuck you," Abraxas mutters, and storms off toward the gate.

"I tried to warn him," Gellert says unapologetically.

"Shall we make bets on the outcome?" Sirius asks, "My drakes are on Therana killing him at least twice."

"Only twice?" Tom says. "I believe you're overestimating his chances, my dear."

"So I guess things with House Telvanni are going… well?" I say. "How about the rest of you?"

My companions exchange reports of their activities over food and drink. This early on, they've mostly been working on simple courier missions, item collection, and bounties on smugglers and animals. Nothing too major or serious yet. Aside from Archmage Trebonius of the Mages Guild wanting Hermione to investigate the disappearance of the Dwemer. Wincing, I give her a few pointers on books to read and people to talk to about that.

"Do you think being a member of House Telvanni will make it harder for you to win over some of the other factions?" Gellert asks me.

"Maybe, but I don't care," I say. "I'm sure you'll be able to convince House Redoran that I'm awesome."

Gellert makes a face. "How many missions can they possibly give me to do without pay? I even tried chewing hackle-lo leaves like they suggested. I really wasn't impressed."

"You'd rather stick to skooma, huh?" I comment.

"Why, I'd never!" Gellert mock protests. "That's _illegal_!"

"Technically, we're in Oblivion, in Sanguine's realm," Sirius says. "It's very much legal _here_."

I smirk. "Right, I'm gonna go have a chat with Caius."

I head out to the entrance to the palace. The portable gate is inactive right now. Abraxas probably took the yurt with him when he left. The Hlormaren gate gets me within range of an Almsivi Intervention to Balmora anyway, though. I relate to Caius the encounter between Mehra and myself.

"I'll come, of course," Caius says. "Where exactly is Mount Kand?"

"Near a town called Molag Mar, apparently," I say. "We've gained access to an old, abandoned Dunmer teleportation network that will allow us to get close to it without alerting anyone to our movements."

"Excellent," Caius says. "Good work."

* * *

The closest stronghold to Mount Kand is Telasero, making me somewhat grateful that we'd actually bothered to clear the place out just to avoid having to trudge through this part of Vvardenfell too much. Caius actually puts on a shirt for the occasion, as well as a less shabby pair of pants. When Caius, Rispy and I reach the rendezvous point, however, we don't find Mehra Milo waiting for us. A group of Ordinators in their golden armor lays in wait for us.

"Shit," Caius hisses low. "It's an ambush."

"You're no pilgrims," says one of them, named Suryn Athones.

"What makes you say that?" I say aloud. "Of course we are. I'm a member of the Temple and I was sent here on pilgrimage."

"Are you really?" Suryn drawls in disbelief. "Then tell me what the pilgrimage here is all about."

I have no clue. "Sure, I can tell you all about it. Where is that book?" I mutter to distract them, opening my pack and pulling out the portable Oblivion gate. I quickly deploy it and activate the emergency rune on it that will send an alarm echoing throughout the interior.

"What in Oblivion?" Suryn utters.

Rispy whips out a sword in the blink of an eye, and Caius brings out a long dagger. I'd been worried about Caius' safety, given his apparent age, but he seems to be able to hold his own against heavily armored opponents with his greater agility. It doesn't take long for my companions to emerge from the gate. Kirlin puts up protective spells around us, and Hermione throws fire. Tom casts dark spells to weaken and slow our enemies, and Gellert conjures a Bound Battleaxe and charges in. We make short work of our enemies, but keep their leader alive in a paralysis spell.

"Thanks for the help," Caius says. "That's an impressive setup you have there." He turns to the Ordinator and demands, "Where is Mehra Milo?"

Suryn tries to spit at me, but can barely move his mouth and almost chokes on his own saliva. "You're not getting anything out of me. You and she will face the same fate as all heretics."

"He's resisting my control spells," Tom says.

"I think I know one place to look, at least," I say. "Is she in the Ministry of Truth?"

Suryn's expression remains unreadable, given that he's still paralyzed, but he does mutter a number of insults directed to outlanders and the Empire, and casts aspirations upon our ancestry, hygiene, and sexual practices.

"Shall I take him back to interrogate while you go rescue the priestess?" Tom suggested lightly.

"I don't care," I say, waving him off as he and Gellert drag the prisoner away into the gate.

"We have to find Mehra," Caius says.

I nod in agreement. "Kirlin, can you get us into the Ministry of Truth?"

Kirlin makes a face. "I'm really not that high in the Temple yet."

"Alright, we'll have to sneak in, then," I say.

"I need to make a report," Caius says, making a face. "I think I'd prefer assaulting a prison to writing reports."

"Don't worry, Caius," I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get her back. One way or another."

"See to it," Caius says.

* * *

Under cover of chameleon spells, Sirius and I float up to the giant rock floating above Vivec City, and I shout open the door to get in. I'm unsurprised, if disappointed, to find no sign that Vivec is actually doing anything about it yet. We make our way through the corridors, trying to avoid attention from the Ordinators and following the dot on the map marked 'Mehra Milo'.

"There she is," Sirius whispers, pointing down as we come around to a chamber with several cell along the walls.

The place is full of guards. It's not going to be easy to get in there undetected. But the room is large enough that we may be able to avoid most of them. The more difficult part, of course, is convincing myself that I shouldn't just slaughter my way through this place. While it might make getting the Temple's support more difficult if I start going slaughtering them, _Vivec_ should be supporting me. Still, reasonably, I decide it would be best to limit myself to slaughter I can get away with for the moment. The Ordinators we killed at Mount Kand were well away from civilization and anything could have happened to them. Freeing the prisoners here will be more obvious, but that still can't be traced back to me.

And I'm damned well going to free any prisoners here, not just Mehra. I whisper to Sirius, "Get Mehra. I'll cover you."

Sirius nods tersely and moves over to the door where she's being held to wait for me to do my thing.

I take a position in the middle of the chamber and shout, "STIN-PAH-GEIN!"

Every door in the general vicinity slams open. And the Ordinators instantly know something is wrong, and it doesn't take them more than an instant to figure out where I am. As I try to block and dodge their attacks, I think I really could have planned this better. Despite my best efforts, one of them gets a lucky shot and takes me down.

* * *

"Can we _try_ subtlety this time?" Sirius asks, looking up at Baar Dau.

I grouse.

"Or if we're going to slaughter them all, that we just do that?" Sirius goes on.

"I can totally be subtle if I want," I say.

"If you keep dying because you can't be subtle, I'm going to tell Gellert so he can mock you incessantly."

"It's not my fault," I say. "I can't just leave a prison be."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "You can't? Really? You're not breaking out every prison in Tamriel whenever you pass them."

"But the people in there are probably being held just for disagreeing with the Temple," I say.

"And people holding political prisoners in jail is better?" Sirius asks. "Look. I appreciate you wanting to break people out of prison. I damned well do, otherwise I wouldn't even be here. But if that's what we're going to do, then we have to be prepared for it."

"I would have been fine," I say. "They just got lucky."

"Aren't you the one who says that luck is never on your side?" Sirius asks.

"Well… I may or may not have been less unlucky lately?"

"Yeah, but that's no excuse to rely on luck when you don't have to," Sirius says. "I mean, come on. You just going to do trial and error when you don't have to? You can do better than that."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "Got any better ideas?"

"Either we kill the Ordinators one by one," Sirius says, "or we sneak around and free the prisoners one by one. You can get the doors open and I'll set a Mark here and Divine Intervention them right out of their cells."

"How do we know they haven't put up wards to prevent teleportation spells from working?" I ask.

"Then we'll find out after the first attempt," Sirius says.

"And won't you run out of magicka, between that and the illusion spells?" I ask.

"I have a Recall amulet," Sirius says, pulling out a chain hidden under his shirt. "Enchanted it myself in case of needing to escape a situation without having to deal with casting time or magicka requirements."

"That's… a good idea," I say. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're always dying instead of running away," Sirius points out.

"Oh, right," I say.

We levitate up and slip inside again, and break into each cell one by one, leaving Mehra's for last.

"Mehra Milo?" I say quietly.

"Yes, that's me," Mehra says. "Are you here to rescue me?"

I nod, then realize I'm still invisible. "Yeah," I say. "Caius sent us."

"Oh, thank gods," Mehra says.

"When you didn't show up at the rendezvous, we got worried," I say. "Especially since the Ordinators set up an ambush for us there. We had to kill them all."

"I'm sorry you got mixed up in all this," Mehra says. "Did you bring a Divine Intervention scroll or something?"

"We can cast it," I say. "But I have a better option, if you like."

"What is it?" Mehra asks.

"I have a portable gate to a pocket realm of Oblivion we've been using as a headquarters," I say, chuckling.

"Is that really safe?" Mehra wonders incredulously.

"It's in Sanguine's domain," I say. "He doesn't care what we do with it so long as some of us are reveling regularly. At any rate, Caius is there waiting for us."

"All things considered, I suppose I'll have to take your word on it," Mehra says.

I deploy the gate, and Sirius dispels our chameleon spells and steps inside. Mehra stares at it for a long moment. Her hesitation quickly gets dispelled itself by the sound of Ordinators outside approaching the door. It seems they've noticed the break-in. I hurriedly gesture her to get in, and this time she takes the hint and enters the gate. I close it up and manage to get off a Recall spell as the door starts to open.

Now at the Urshilaku camp, I set up my yurt on the outskirts of the camp and head inside. Caius has set up something of an office in one side room, and for some reason brought along his skooma and associated paraphernalia. I guess Sanguine isn't going to have any problem with him, either.

"Mehra!" Caius says. "It's good to see you safe."

"Caius," Mehra says with a smile. "I am well. None the worse for wear for my brief imprisonment. I must say, I was starting to wonder if you were involved at all, after hearing about this place you and your associates are using." She glances around the room questioningly, but it really doesn't look like anything other than a perfectly normal room without any Daedric idols or symbolism.

Caius chuckles. "Yes, I'm not overly thrilled at the Sanguine business, myself, but it seems to have worked out well enough. I'll take their word on it that they've been using this place for some time now without incident."

Sirius pokes his head in. "I'm going to go reset my Mark back to the South Wall Cornerclub. Unless you _really_ anticipate a need to get back into a cell in the Ministry of Truth at some point in the future. Otherwise, well, we can probably just sneak in again anyway."

"I'd rather not go back there, no," Mehra said.

I nod to Sirius, and he heads for the gate. "We may have been less than subtle about breaking out everyone in there," I say. "But then, I suppose at least this way they won't know _which_ prisoner we were intent upon freeing. Nobody saw us, at any rate."

"Good," Caius says. "Well done."

Mehra turns to me. "You were looking for information from the Dissident Priests? Regarding the Nerevarine prophecies?"

I nod. "Much as I hate prophecies, it seems I ought to play along with them for now. I'd best at least find out what they're all about. Knowledge is always better than ignorance."

"There is a place you can go to find out the information you want," Mehra says. "I would like to go there myself. I'm not going to be returning to Vivec anytime soon, apparently. Let me tell you how to get there…" She starts rattling off a long list of confusing directions.

I groan softly and hold up a hand. "I'm not going to remember all this."

"Alternatively, you can go to Ebonheart and ask a friend of mine for a 'fishing trip'," Mehra says.

"Okay, is there an alternative to getting lost in the middle of nowhere _and_ long boat rides to nowhere?" I ask.

Both Caius and Mehra give me a look.

I throw up my hands. "I'll escort you out there and you can give me directions as we go, alright? Just please try not to piss off every cliff racer from here to Cyrodiil."

"Well enough," Mehra says with a touch of amusement.

* * *

After a long trip that definitely did not involve fighting every cliff racer between there and Cyrodiil, we come to a secret shrine in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn't imagine that it would even need to try particularly hard to stay a secret, if it weren't for the fact that I already know that there are plenty of Dunmer around here who live in the shittiest places possible for some reason. I think it's something of cultural masochism, really.

We wind up having to wait until dusk before the doors will open, which, once I realize the place is associated with Azura, makes me not at all surprised. She does so love doing inconvenient things like that. Once inside, Mehra leads us into a library and introduces me to a priest.

"Harry, this is Gilvas Barelo," Mehra says. "Gilvas, there are Harry Potter, Rispy, Gellert, and Hermione. They and their associates helped me escape from the Ministry of Truth and safely escorted me here."

Yes, the minute she heard we were going to a library, Hermione immediately volunteered herself for the trip. Never mind that she would have been able to just come out of the gateway when I deploy it anyway. Though I suppose we might as well not advertise that here. Mehra and Caius seem to have taken it well enough, even if they still have their reservations.

"Welcome to Holomayan Monastery," Gilvas says. "It's not often that we get visitors, particularly such an eclectic group of outlanders. But perhaps that's just what we need in a time like this? After all, the lost prophecies claim that the Nerevarine will be an outlander."

I groan softly. "Yes, that's what we're here for. I'm looking for information on the lost prophecies," I say. "And I'm sorry if I inadvertently got Mehra in trouble regarding it."

Mehra shakes her head. "Trouble was brewing regardless of your actions."

"Well, feel free to peruse our library," Gilvas says, and Hermione needs no more invitation than that. "I'll tell you what I can, as well."

"Yes, tell us all about this outlander Nerevarine," Gellert says with a grin.

"Of course," Gilvas says. "Here, let me show you some books. Do you believe you are the Nerevarine?"

"Oh, no, no." Gellert gestures to me. " _This_ guy is the Nerevarine."

"Maybe these supposed prophecies will tell us otherwise and I'm off the hook," I say lightly.

"Like you believe that," Gellert says.

"Alright, tell you what," I say. "These prophecies have been lost, right? Most people outside these walls no longer know what they are? And I definitely haven't been in here, so there's no chance, barring something weird like time travel or something, that I could have possibly read any of them or know what's in them?"

"I'd say that's likely, yes," Gilvas says.

"Then let me tell you a prophecy I _know_ is about me, and see how it matches up to what you've got," I say. I wasn't particularly impressed with the one I already heard, not that I'm impressed with prophecies in general, but I should hope that some of them get more specific.

Gilvas, to my surprise, pulls out some paper and a pen. "Let me write down this prophecy of yours, then. If we do not have it, we will need to be certain to copy and preserve it."

I grunt. "As you like." I take a deep breath. "The Stormseeker approaches. Born of the blood of the dragon, born of a distant star," I censor myself a bit, in that the people on Nirn won't have heard the term 'galaxy'. "Deaths beyond number mark his path, but he bears the hope of a thousand worlds."

Gilvas' eyes widen in surprise, but that doesn't stop him from fervently jotting down my words. "Fascinating! I had never thought to equate the Nerevarine prophecies with the Stormseeker ones."

"You have Stormseeker prophecies," I say flatly.

"Oh, yes," Gilvas says. "We have quite a lot of prophecies here, not all of which are directly connected to the Nerevarine. We dedicated ourselves to preserving anything the Temple found heretical and tried to purge, not simply a few bits of knowledge."

"I see," I say. "Of course. Alright. Tell me what you have on the Nerevarine first."

"The prophecy known simply as the Lost Prophecy reads thusly," Gilvas says.

_From seventh sign of eleventh generation_  
_Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow_  
_But Dragon-born and far-star-marked_  
_Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain_

Before he can finish, I just groan aloud and start gently batting my head against a pillar.

"Yes, the similarities are striking, aren't they?" Gilvas says. "Now, 'Dragon-born' in this instance I had assumed to mean that you were born under the Imperial dragon banner—"

"No," I say. "'Dragon-born' means something _specific_ , and that is not what it means."

Gilvas at least has the grace not to look annoyed at his conjecture being brushed aside without a second thought. "Then what?"

"It means I have the blood and soul of a dragon," I say.

"I don't understand," Gilvas says. "I would have thought you meant a connection to the Imperial royal family, but this? What does it mean to have the… blood and soul of a dragon? Would that imply Nerevar had a dragon soul as well?"

"He would have to have had," I say. "Because he was me."

"A hero blessed by Akatosh," Gellert puts in helpfully. " _Dovahkiin_. Able to wield the Thu'um instinctively. The Voice. Dragon Shouts, some might say."

"Ah, Nord legends?" Gilvas says. "Peculiar to find the Nerevarine associated with Nord legends, but perhaps it should not be surprising."

"Akatosh is not just a Nord god," Gellert points out.

"True," Gilvas says.

"At any rate, I can easily prove that I'm Dragonborn," I say. "I'll Shout open any door or lock you want."

After a quick demonstration, Gilvas says, "Fascinating. This must be what was spoken of in descriptions of Nords shouting down city gates."

"Technically, people who aren't Dragonborn can learn the Thu'um, too," Gellert says. "But it takes years, even decades, just to master a single Shout. Any man who displayed _his_ mastery of the skill would no doubt look old and gray."

"Well, I _am_ older than I look," I say with a smirk. "Alright, let's hear the Stormseeker prophecies. And I better hope I don't regret asking this." __

  
_Stormseeker, Fateweaver, Timebreaker._   
_His path is strewn with countless deaths_   
_but none can be his final breath._   
_Three false gods bring blight and lies_   
_and each of them before him dies._   
_The first a wolf who spiral danced_   
_and allowed no hope or chance._   
_The second brought us ash and dreams_   
_and bears a golden mask agleam._   
_The third walked city tainted black_   
_and tore the sky to take him back._

I put my face in my palm and rub my forehead. "Alright, I knew I wouldn't like it even before I heard it, and now I _know_ I don't like it."

"This prophecy never made any sense to me," Gilvas says. "I hope it has more meaning to you. I've made speculations, of course. Some of my predecessors insisted that it had to be referring to the Tribunal, but I find no correlation between them and the descriptions given. The first might be a reference to Hircine, and the second to Dagoth Ur, although I'm not sure what the third might refer to."

I shake my head. "Not Hircine. It was a werewolf who belonged to a group called the Black Spiral Dancers. I already dealt with him. Although given the circumstances, I would _dearly_ like to know how Azura or anyone else might have known enough to have made a prophecy like this. Ugh. Have I mentioned that I hate prophecies yet?"

"Maybe once or twice," Gellert says.

"I'm sure the second is Dagoth Ur," I say. "And the third… I have no idea, but I'm kind of dreading even more anyone trying to make a prediction over what I might do in the future."

"I think Azura just figures if she sticks you in front of something you don't like, it will probably wind up stomped," Gellert comments.

"I guess," I say. "It's no less worrisome, though."

"Azura cheats," Gellert says with a smirk. "Don't worry about her."

Gilvas leaves me with a stack of books to read and information to take to the Urshilaku. I do hope this is what Nibani Maesa was looking for. As annoying as this was, and the whole prophecy business, it would be even more annoying to come back here and tell them I brought the wrong book.

"Gellert, can you leave a Mark here?" I ask.

"Yeah, good point," Gellert says. "This place is considerably more annoying to get to than Ald'ruhn."

"That, and the door is fucking obnoxious," I add. "Azura is inconvenient on top of being a cheater."


	31. The Divine Disease

I reluctantly return to the camp of the Urshilaku Ashlanders, not really looking forward to anything they might tell me. I dread the whole business and drag my feet on it until Tom practically throws me out of the portable palace.

"You've been hiding out in here for days," Tom snaps. "Nothing is going to change for the better if you wait."

"I hate everything about this," I mutter as I head out to pack up the yurt, Recall and deploy the yurt against near the Urshilaku camp.

He has a point, of course, and I know very well that things will only grow worse if I wait. Dagoth Ur will continue to grow in strength and start making attacks against settlements, and I'm not nearly strong enough to stop him on my own. I kind of wish I had a more solid timetable on how long I have before the point of no return and the whole reset is a wash. I have a terrible feeling that if this keeps up, I will find out. I've already failed twice.

I make my way into Nibani Maesa's yurt and lay out the books I'd brought.

"You've had success in your quest?" Nibani says.

I tap the books. "Yes. I found out what the Dissident Priests know about the Nerevarine Prophecies. And a few prophecies I really hadn't anticipated."

"They're very pretty, but I confess I have never learned to read the script of the House Dunmer. Would you read them aloud for me?"

"Right, of course, sorry," I say sheepishly. I should have remembered that. That was the whole reason so much knowledge had been lost, after all.

I recite aloud each of the prophecies I had been given, setting aside how much I hate them and stifling my distaste. Let it not be said that I'm not still in control of my emotions. And then Nibani makes me repeat them over and over again until she has memorized them herself. I grit my teeth as she recites them herself to make sure that she has them down properly.

"Okay, you got those now?"

Nibani nodded. "I have a very good memory."

"Great," I say, then cast a Magic Nap so I don't have to do that again.

Nibani gives me an odd look. "Was the conversation that tiresome?"

"Just want to make sure I'm alert," I say with a gracious smile. "So, yes. The prophecies. I'm obviously the Nerevarine, and also the Stormseeker. The prophecies prove this, right? I mean, not like I couldn't have just told you anything I wanted, but seeing as I'd really rather not be the Nerevarine if I can help it, I have no real reason to do so."

"For one who does not wish to be the Nerevarine, you certainly are going out of your way to be such," Nibani says.

"Yes, well, we don't always get to do what we want," I grumble. "I don't want to be the Nerevarine. I don't want to fulfill these prophecies. But someone has to stop Dagoth Ur, and I'm the one in the best position to do so."

"Very well," Nibani says. "Go now, and give me some time to rest and meditate upon these signs and omens, and see what my dreams and the gods have to say regarding them."

"Right," I say flatly. "You do that."

It seems that I'm not the only one who can drag their heels. Although I can't really blame her, I suppose, after all this I'm a little annoyed that all she can do is tell me to go away and come back later. Shrugging internally, I head out and return to the portable palace. 

* * *

"You're going to need to get corprus," Tom says.

"Fuck's sake, Tom, we've gone over this before," I say. "It's too risky."

"And the wise woman isn't going to tell you you're the Nerevarine and fulfilling prophecies unless you do," Tom says. "No blight can harm the Nerevarine, so says the prophecy."

"I'm hardly going to go and roll around in corprus slime in hopes of catching it," I say. "And I'm definitely not going to go to Ilunibi and see about getting Dagoth Wossname to curse me. Then again, you said Divayth Fyr was working on it? If he thinks he can cure me, he could surely infect me, right? And then if things don't go well, I can still reset to before I was infected?"

"I'm glad you thought of that instead of me," Tom says. "Because if I'd suggested it, you'd have spent at least another loop kicking and screaming about it."

I smirk. "Probably. Why didn't you _kill me_ when I lost consciousness after I got infected last time?" I shake my head. "Never mind. Let's get to Tel Fyr and see what we can do. Nibani Maesa's too busy speaking with the wind or whatever to give me a straight answer anyway."

I haven't interacted with Divayth Fyr himself nearly as much as Tom had in previous loops, although part of that might be me being uneasy around someone who would have been alive during the time my previous self had been. I wonder if he'd known me, or if he was just some budding mage somewhere else in the world who had never even come into contact with me. I suppose I'll find out.

"I'm going with you," Tom says. "I have a Mark set at Tel Fyr."

I don't bother arguing with him, nor wonder why he has a Mark set there already. I don't really care who comes with me. I don't think it matters. This is something I need to do myself. And I hate it to no end.

I tell myself that, reasonably, I have no good reason to be afraid. The only thing that worries me is the potential mental effects of the corprus disease. And I've taken every precaution to mitigate the risk, right? It still makes me doubt the necessity of this all. There has to be a better way to do it. I'm hoping we will come up with one at some point, though, because I don't fancy having to get corprus over and over if this loop doesn't work out.

Tom teleports the two of us to Tel Fyr, and we levitate up to Divayth Fyr's study.

Divayth looks up from his writing when we approach. "Ah, Tom, I did not expect to see you back y— Wait, is this—?"

"Nerevar Incarnate?" I offer. "What _has_ he told you about me?"

I hadn't even realized Tom had been spending much time with Divayth in the first place.

"I see," Divayth says. "Fascinating. And you are absolutely certain of that, too?"

"If I'm not, the universe is playing an even bigger prank on me than usual," I comment dryly. "And now I'm being told, because of some stupid prophecy, that I need to get corprus and have it cured. Does this sound as stupid to you as it does to me? Please tell me this sounds stupid."

"Ah, but the cure I have in mind does not so much _remove_ corprus but mitigate its deleterious effects," Divayth clarifies. "In effect, making the subject unaging and immune to all disease, without causing their mind and body to degrade. Still, no subjects have survived my test runs yet. Are you so certain that it would work on _you_ that you'd wish to deliberately be infected with corprus despite being an otherwise healthy individual right now?"

"I'm not really concerned about that," I say. "I don't know what Tom told you, but I'm immortal already, just in a different way. If I die, my mind and soul will snap back to a previous moment."

"I did not put it in such terms, no," Tom said.

"Truly?" Divayth says. "To think that one might dance the strands of time and death puts a strange new perspective upon the reports of what happened at Red Mountain all those years ago."

"It's as likely that _I_ caused a Dragon Break somehow as much as anything else," I say. "I'll tell you all about it if we get through this all sometime. The relevant bit is that I can effectively 'Mark' in time a point that I can 'Recall' to, automatically Recalling upon death."

"Hmm, when you put it like that…" Tom muses absently, then wanders off mumbling to himself.

Divayth looked faintly amused. "Why would I wish you to wait until after you've survived something that is very likely to kill you to tell me? Should you die, then I will never find out."

"That's true," I say. "Sorry, I didn't think of it that way. Alright, I'll tell you whatever you'd like now, and _then_ we can try the experiments that will probably kill me repeatedly."

I spend some time speaking with Divayth and explaining how my powers work, and various things I've learned in previous loops. I answer all of his questions. I have no real reason not to. There's no point in hiding anything from him, and if Tom trusts him, that's good enough for me. There's very little that I can tell Divayth of my previous life in this world, of having been Nerevar, but what I do know makes it highly unlikely that I'm _not_. Rispy's hints have been more than enough to confirm that in and of themselves, even if he's told me very little.

Once Divayth's curiosity is satisfied, I cast a Magic Nap and we get to work. Infecting me with corprus seems like it should be a simple enough matter, considering how worried people are about randomly getting it. I participate in some frankly disgusting exercises, get injected with horrible things, and still fail to show any symptoms.

"Okay, this is just getting ridiculous," I say. "Enough of this. If this hasn't managed to give me corprus by now, I'm clearly not getting it this way. Am I just already immune to it and didn't realize it somehow? I don't get it."

"The divine disease works in mysterious ways at times," Divayth says.

"I'd go claim to the wise woman that I'm already immune to disease if I didn't think we were still missing something somewhere," I say. "And that I've obviously still kept getting obnoxious lesser illnesses and blight sickness."

"Perhaps the disease only wishes you to get it under its own terms," Divayth says. "It's as much curse and blessing as it is a disease, after all."

"Does it really have a consciousness?" I ask. "Or is the consciousness behind it merely that of Dagoth Ur? Would destroying him immediately eradicate corprus across the world?"

"I do not believe so, but it will be interesting to see what happens," Divayth says.

"Well, I know one way to get corprus, at least," I say. "Provided that hasn't somehow been changed in this timeline by my ensuring that nobody goes there."

"Ilunibi?" Tom asks.

"Ilunibi," I say with a sigh.

* * *

"Are you quite done complaining yet?" Abraxas says. "You have done nothing but whinge and mope ever since you got back from Vivec."

I sigh. "Yes, I do believe it's about time I just stop whining about it all and go get this over with already. I'm not sure which part of this is worse. The fact that we need to go into a Sixth House stronghold, the fact that I need to get corprus intentionally, or the fact that we have to trudge through that swamp yet again."

"You just said you were going to stop whining," Abraxas says.

"Right," I say with a smirk.

I see no need for us all to suffer, though. Gellert, Luna, Rispy, and I make the trip up through the swamp on foot from Hlormaren. Luna, of all of us, actually seems to enjoy strolling through wilderness, even if it's the swamps along the Bitter Coast. And I keep picking coda flowers out of habit even though I don't exactly have any great need for them at the moment.

"Think this will work?" Gellert asks.

"Just don't even ask me that right now," I mutter.

"Sorry," Gellert says. "You've been awfully touchy lately."

"No shit," I reply.

"We don't all deserve that ire, Nerevar," Rispy says quietly.

"I know," I say with a sigh. "Sorry. And what's with you calling me Nerevar lately? It's not like there's anyone in earshot we're trying to impress."

"Would you prefer Lexen, Harry, or Revan, instead?" Rispy asks.

I grunt. "I see your point."

"It's awkward trying to remember which name to shout during sex with _one person_ who has too many names," Gellert comments.

"So long as it's not Albus, I'm happy," I say with a smirk.

We arrive outside Ilunibi. I deploy the yurt and cast Magic Nap. We decide to not take any chances with whatever Sixth House forces are inside the cave, and take the full team in. They're going to be hostile to us, most likely, and we'll need to fight our way through.

That assessment proves accurate. If anything, the forces deployed inside are even heavier than the last time we were here. We're hard-pressed to make progress and wind up dying more than once trying to get inside.

"I really should have just sent an army of undead to clear this place out first," Tom mutters.

"We're going to need to have a chat with the 'priest' at the end, though," I say. "So unfortunately, we have to be in here ourselves."

Finally, we reach the heart of the cave complex. I cast Magic Nap just outside, hold up a hand to signal to my friends to stay back, and approach.

"I would speak with you," I call. "What is your name?"

I know perfectly well that his name is Dagoth Gares, as indicated by a naming spell that reminds me, but I still wait for him to introduce himself anyway. I let him start in on his spiel about how Dagoth Ur wants to be my friend and everything's going to be all sunshine and horrible mutant daisies.

"You want me to go to him and submit," I say. "You don't 'submit' to friends. Friends are equals."

"Are you equal among all of _your_ friends?" Gares says. "I can see them waiting for you out there, thinking they're hidden in the shadows. But you can forward alone."

"Because _I'm_ the Nerevarine and this business involves _me_ ," I reply. "If it were _their_ business, I'd hold back and let _them_ handle it and do the talking unless they wanted my intervention."

"Lord Dagoth Ur would surely raise you at his side as an equal should you go and submit to him. He would forgive you of your transgressions and betrayal."

I put my face in my palm. "And you're probably going to give me corprus in order to force me to go to him, too. So let's just get this over with. Curse me and I'll be on my way."

"You do not intend to fight me?" Gares asks.

"Not if I don't have to," I say. "I will strike you down if I must, but I didn't come here to kill you. I wouldn't have killed those on the way here if they hadn't stood in my way, either."

"You almost sound like you _want_ to get corprus," Gares says.

"Yes," I reply. "Now, will you give it to me? Please?"

"Why?" Gares wonders a little suspiciously.

"Were you not just trying to convince me to go to Dagoth Ur?" I ask. "Why would I wish to deny the blessings of the divine disease?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

A terrible sensation floods my body, and my skin crawls painfully.

"Far be it from me to deny you your wish…"

I black out.

* * *

I wake from nightmares inside the palace, in pain and feeling very sick. I groan as I blink my eyes open, and pin my gaze on the Argonian in the room.

"Fuck you…" I mutter.

"Was this not what you were trying to do?" Tom asks.

" _Fuck you_ ," I hiss. "This is possibly the single worst outcome that could have arisen from this."

I stagger to my feet and cast a few quick spells to mitigate the effects of the disease temporarily. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, but no. There is no being calm after _this_. A crash of magicka slams Tom into the far wall. Someone is calling my name, and I'm not even sure which name it is, but their voice can't penetrate the haze of rage in my mind.

" _You knew_ this was going to happen!" I roar.

Tom is trying to say something. "I was— I was—"

I ignore him in favor of grabbing his throat. "You knew I was trying to avoid this. You knew I didn't want to tangle up with the Sixth House. You knew I didn't want to risk getting stuck with corprus with no certain way out of it. _You knew_ I didn't want to risk winding up having to join forces with Dagoth Ur again!"

"I was— _trying to help you_ ," Tom gasps out.

"Nerevar," Rispy says. "Put him down. He had no ill intentions, and if you kill him, we all reset to a few minutes ago anyway. It won't change anything."

I scowl deeply, and drop Tom to the floor with force. "Let's get to Tel Fyr. This cure you were working on had _better_ work, or I'll skin you alive."

We head outside and pack up the yurt, and Tom Recalls us to Tel Fyr, where we set it up again and head in.

"Alright, Fyr," I say once I'm in front of him. "I've got corprus. Now do you have that cure on hand?"

"Right here," Divayth says, pulling out a potion. "Now, I want you to take it right here in front of me so I can observe the effects."

"Yes, yes," I mutter, casting Magic Nap. "Let's get on with this."

I snatch up the potion and drink it down. It tastes terrible and I almost choke on it, but when the agony sets in I almost wish I _had_ choked on it. My insides burn and I fall to the ground screaming as my skin turns itself inside out.

* * *

I find myself standing in front of Divayth Fyr, who is holding a potion in hand.

"It didn't work," I hiss. "Your gods-damned 'cure' didn't work. All it did was kill me horribly."

"Ah," Divayth says, sounding only slightly disappointed as he lowers the potion. "I'll need to make some adjustments, then. Could you describe to me exactly what happened?"

"Fuck you," I snap, and turn to Tom. "And fuck you, too. Fuck you all. Fuck everything."

"Lexen…" Tom says quietly.

" _You_ assured me this would work," I growl.

"I said I thought it—"

"I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't taken you at your word!" I yell.

Divayth puts in, "I'm sure I can find a cure, with the assistance of a subject who won't truly die and can assist in telling me what went wrong."

"I can do more than that," I reply. "Tom. Bring me crystal pillars and help me set up a basin."

"Are you planning what I think you're planning?" Tom asks.

"A Geneforge," I say. "Yes. You know what sort of materials I'm going to need. Bring them to the Corprusarium."

Tom nods tersely. I'm sure he's just glad that I have better uses for him than actually flaying him alive.

"What is a… Geneforge?" Divayth asks.

"I'll tell you all about it," I say. "Come on. I need to give instructions to my friends."

I spin around without bothering to make sure they're actually following me and head back to the levitation shaft, barely remembering to recast my levitation spell before jumping down.

Rispy is waiting expectantly in the main room near the entrance to the tower, and gives me a concerned look. "It didn't work, did it."

"It did not," I say. "Rispy. Bring me parts from each race of man and mer. Clear out some slaver dens or bandit lairs or something."

"Parts?" Rispy repeats.

"Blood will do nicely," I say.

"Right then," Rispy says. "I'll bring you all the blood samples you want."

I chuckle grimly. "You didn't even ask what I needed them for."

"Do I have to?" Rispy says with a smirk.

"I'm going to build a Geneforge in the Corprusarium," I say. "And no, Fyr, I'm not asking your permission to build one there, although I'm sure you'd give it anyway. I'm still _quite_ annoyed about this whole business."

"Tell me what it is," Divayth says.

"It's… a device we ran across in one of the previous worlds we visited," I begin.

"It changes the one who uses it," Rispy explains, picking up on what I'm doing. "That's why you want the blood samples. You want to extract the desired form from them."

I nod. "The ones who made the Geneforges were trying to use them to make them stronger, more 'perfect'. They gave incredible physical strength and vastly increased the amount of magicka one could use safely."

"The original one, at any rate," Rispy says. "The later ones were kind of lame, watered-down versions. But they still allowed easy access to magical abilities to someone who previously had no training."

"Now, we've likened the corprus disease to the uncontrolled Shaping that went on on that world," I say.

"There are definite similarities," Tom says.

"The Shapers molded flesh like clay and created new life with their powers," I say. "Much like you have done here."

"You believe this Geneforge will serve to control the changes?" Divayth asks.

I nod. "It should stabilize the form and set it into the blueprint it's set up with. I'll need your notes regarding your own research." I look to Tom. "And I'll need anything _you_ remember or have experimented with regarding Shaping that I may have forgotten."

"Of course," Tom says.

"I'm deferring skinning you alive for the moment," I say. "But don't think I've forgiven you yet for pushing me into this."

Much as I want to continue raging about the situation, it won't solve anything. I am the eye of the storm. I'm in control. And I _will_ find a solution.

* * *

I would lose track of time down in the Corprusarium, without being able to see the sun, moons, and stars, if I weren't capable of sensing them and feeling their movements around me. The strange stars of Mundus that are not stars. The world that is not like the worlds I knew.

I work. I build, test, and experiment. My friends bring me supplies and samples. Tom and Divayth compare notes with me.

I continue to use magic to try to stave off the effects of corprus, resorting to having Kirlin cast restorative effects on me when my fingers get too clumsy to make fine movements. The constant magicka requirements and lack of general access to restorative spells might explain why more people don't try this, especially since it only delays the inevitable. Inevitable for _them_ , at least. But if this works, I hope _my_ cure will be usable by anyone and not just me. What's the sense in curing corprus if I'm the only one who will ever benefit from it?

The latest blood sample Rispy has brought me seems odd in some way. "What's this sample?"

"I got Vivec to give me a blood sample," Rispy says casually.

"You got _Vivec_ to give you a blood sample?" I repeat, then pause. "How did you even get in there?"

"I knocked," Rispy replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He let me in."

"Huh," I say. "I never thought to try that." I put the sample in the rack on the table with the others I'm working with. "I wasn't going to get a Chimer blood sample anywhere else, I suppose. Although Vivec is only half-Chimer. Which is incredibly weird."

"I could try to hit up Almalexia, too," Rispy says with a smirk. "But I doubt she'd be as receptive."

"Yeah, maybe not try Almalexia," I say, making a face.

I have samples of almost every other sort of man and mer, including a Dwemer sample from Yagrum Bagarn, albeit a corrupted one I'm trying to extract the core of. Several Falmer samples came along, too, which I hadn't thought of, corrupted differently than corprus. Most of the samples are from Dunmer, but Rispy apparently felt the need to bring in a large number of Altmer samples from somewhere. Those probably weren't all from Morrowind. And I'd never even _heard_ of the Maormer, never mind how he found a sample from one.

"How in Oblivion did you even get a blood sample from an Ayleid?" I wonder. "I thought they were extinct."

"They're just hiding," Rispy says. "Sorry I couldn't find any uncorrupted Falmer or any Kothringi. Nor any full-blooded Nedes, for that matter, but I expect there's Nedic blood in some of the other human samples."

"I've never even heard of the Kothringi," I say. "You really took me seriously when I said 'every' race."

"Of course," Rispy says with a smirk. "Did you expect otherwise?"

"I want to know why you always say you're so bad at alchemy when you can manage something like this," Tom comments.

"This isn't alchemy," I say. "This is Shaping. Besides, I had a lot of help on this."

"If you can do this, you should be able to do alchemy," Tom says.

"We can debate on that later," I say. "I'm getting ready for another test."

So far, every test I've made has failed. I've died horribly from the Geneforge's energies overwhelming me, but those failures were at least better than the ones where it failed to do _enough_ and didn't actually do anything more than disfigure me a bit more. But that was before I had Vivec's blood sample.

"Alright, better call in Divayth," I say. "I have a good feeling about this one."

I weave magicka through the last blood sample and slowly pour it into the basin of swirling violet essence. The energy coursing through the Geneforge is almost palpable. This will work. This _will_ work. I refuse to give up and accept denial here. If this one fails, I will adjust things and try again. And again and again, until it _works_.

Tom returns, and Divayth comes into the Geneforge chamber. "You are ready for another test?"

"Rispy somehow brought me a sample from freaking Vivec," I say. "So yes. I'm ready to try again." I grin wildly. "Alright everyone. Stay back. You know the drill. If my skin falls off again, we'll know it didn't work."

I kneel down in front of the Geneforge. If this doesn't work, I think the next thing I'm going to try is to craft a pair of Shaping gloves that can carefully extract essence from the pool in measured amounts. But those were complicated and delicate, and I think the general power level of this Geneforge is low enough not to require them. I'm not trying to grant myself godlike powers or anything like that here.

Reaching out with both hands, I lightly skim my fingers along the surface of the pool. Intense pain immediately consumes me, but I grit my teeth and hold firm. If I fall into the pool, like I did a couple times, that would change me faster than my body can keep up with. I have to hold steady and make sure it changes me as slowly as possible, even if the process is agonizing as my skin crawls and it feels like my insides are rearranging themselves. The process draws out longer than I remember any previous attempts as going. It's working. _It's working_.

Finally, it's done. The pain subsides, and the touch of the essence in the pool no longer has any effect. I hold up my hands and look at them. No sign of sores or deformations, but what I at first take to be a faint glow is actually that my skin is _golden_. What the hell? I rise to my feet and turn around to look in the mirror behind me I've been using to judge my own changes.

"What… did that do to me?" I wonder, marveling over my own green eyes looking out from a golden face with pointed elven ears.

"You look like a Chimer," Divayth says quietly.

"That wasn't exactly part of the plan, but if the negative effects of corprus are gone, then I'm hardly about to complain," I say. I look over to Rispy. "Did you know that would happen? Was that why you brought me all those Altmer samples?"

"They were the purest form of mer," Rispy says. "I just figured they'd make for a good base. I didn't actually expect you'd wind up looking like… like…"

"Like what?" I press.

"Like Nerevar," Rispy finishes.

"You're going to have to explain to me how I was even a Chimer in my past life at all," I say. "When I'm normally a Breton."

"I think Azura did it," Rispy says.

"Of course she did," I mutter. "Alright. Divayth, can you tell me if there's any signs of corprus still on me?"

Divayth approaches me and examines me carefully, my skin, my eyes, my tongue. "I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all. Marvelous, simply marvelous."

I let out a heavy breath and quickly cast a Magic Nap. "I'll need to make some adjustments to the Geneforge before anyone else ought to try it. Make it safer to use. I doubt most of your corprus patients are going to have the mind state to be capable of using it slowly and carefully to avoid changing too fast or falling into the basin. But for the moment… let's celebrate."


	32. The Third Trial

"Who might you be?" Caius says. "That face seems familiar somehow."

I chuckle. "Nerevar Incarnate? I believe I introduced myself to you as either Harry Potter or Lexen Skywalker or both."

"Lexen?" Caius says. "Those eyes. Yes. What in Oblivion happened to you?"

"I got corprus," I say. "I got better." I wave a hand. "And my cure seems to have turned me into a Chimer."

"A Chimer?" Caius repeats. "I would have taken you for an Altmer."

"Only because the Chimer are all Dunmer now," I say. "Believe me, actual Chimer would not have liked to be called Altmer. Or Aldmer, whichever they were calling themselves at the time."

"Are you sure that's actually the form of a Chimer?" Caius says.

"I transformed in the presence of one of the few people alive who would have known firsthand what a Chimer looked like, and had been born as one himself."

"Well, it's well enough you got here when you did," Caius says. "I'm being recalled to the Imperial City, right on time."

I nod. "Yeah, that's why I came to speak with you before I continued my work on the corprus cure. It's ready and it works, I just need to set some things up so that others can use it safely."

"I'd send you messages back on the situation in the Imperial City, but I think we can do one better on that," Caius says. "It's my understanding that your associates also retain their memories of previous loops? If you can spare one, they can find out for themselves what's going on there and be able to take back that information to my past self in the next loop. I can bring them in as a Blade."

"Good idea," I say.

We head into the portable palace and repeat the request.

"I'll go," Abraxas volunteers.

"Brax?" I say. "I didn't expect you'd be the one to offer here."

Abraxas snorts softly. "I'm getting sick of House politics."

"He means he's losing," Tom says.

"Can you play the role of a Blades agent?" Caius says. "I'm going to have to actually induct you so that it's true, as well."

"I can play whatever role you want me to," Abraxas says. "Provided this doesn't involve actually learning how to use a blade."

Caius chuckles softly. "No, that's not necessary. An associate trained in magic would not be unwelcome."

"Then I will come and assist in whatever way I am able to," Abraxas says.

"That's all I can ask," Caius says. "Get whatever you need and meet me in Balmora when you're ready."

Once he goes, I turn to the others. "Okay, can we get a report here on how things have been going while I was down there? Progress in your various factions?"

They've all been doing at least some work and rising in the ranks, in some cases if only because they have nothing better to do or they were being asked to do things they were inclined to do anyway. House Hlaalu still has apparently not noticed that Sirius is also a member of the Thieves Guild. Rispy has been too busy collecting blood samples for me to be doing jobs for the Fighters Guild.

"Gellert?" I ask.

Gellert gripes, "House Redoran kept expecting me to go do stupid things without pay."

"That's why nobody else wanted to do it," I point out. "Have you done many of their stupid things?"

Gellert grumbles. "Not really, no. Does it matter?"

"It might," I say. "I can't say yet."

"Next time we go back in time, let's make a note over whether getting rank in House Redoran made any difference whatsoever," Gellert says.

"That would require actually getting rank with them in the first place," I say.

"For what it's worth," Remus says, "I got to Gnisis before the miner was killed, so the Legion wasn't having me strongarm a widow."

"Well, good work, everyone except Gellert," I say.

"Hey!" Gellert protests.

"I need to go do some more work on the Geneforge, and then I'm off to see the wise woman," I say. "Tom?"

Tom nods, and we go outside to pack up. "Have you forgiven me yet?" he says quietly.

I grunt. "I wouldn't have been able to build the Geneforge without you. That was as much your knowledge as mine."

"But have you forgiven me?" Tom presses.

I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't quite in my right mind at the time." I chuckle softly. "It's a good thing Divayth was used to dealing with violent corprus patients, or he might have gotten offended by me swearing at him."

"You had every right to be angry," Tom says.

"Yeah, but stop it," I say. "You begging for forgiveness is just wrong on so many levels."

"It's important," Tom says. "Our souls are bound together. We cannot remain angry with one another. We're more important to one another than anything that happens in this world."

"Sometimes we forget that," I say quietly.

"You know what our ultimate goal in this world is, don't you?" Tom asks.

"To do what Azura asked of me?" I say.

"No," Tom says with a snort. "That's why we're here. But what is our _real_ goal?"

"Freedom?" I offer.

"Yes," Tom says. "Exactly."

"Freedom to leave this world and go and do what we choose," I murmur.

"We must not lose sight of that," Tom says.

"I don't even know where to _begin_ with that," I say. "At least back on Earth, we knew where a Nexus was. Short of doing what Azura wants and having her extract us, I don't know how to get out of here."

"I've been doing some research," Tom says. "And I'm still looking for Vivec's thirty-seventh sermon."

"How are you so certain there even is one?" I wonder.

"I'm certain," Tom says.

"And what has your research told you?"

"I'm not certain yet," Tom says.

I snort softly. "Then tell me your uncertainties."

"I think the very nature of the universe may hold an answer. I've spoken with Divayth Fyr at length on the matter, in multiple loops. I'm afraid I cannot go into detail of our theories without sounding like the Lessons of Vivec, however."

I smirk. "That can wait. We've got work to do. Let's go."

* * *

I hold the corprus patient against the protective screen over the Geneforge, wincing at the sound of her screams. At least, I think it's a she. I hate to feel like I'm tormenting her needlessly, but if this doesn't work, I can go back and try something else. I have no reason to believe it won't work, though. The sores and warped lumps of flesh are already vanishing one by one, leaving behind smooth bronze skin.

The woman stops screaming, and I release her. "What… What happened? Where am I?"

"Chimer again," Divayth says quietly. "You are in Tel Fyr, my dear. I am Divayth Fyr, and my associates and I have finally found a way to cure corprus. What's the last thing you remember? Do you know your name?"

"My name is Mimmu Mussanibibael," she replies. Must be an Ashlander. "It's all very hazy beyond that. I don't remember how I got here. Or how I got corprus! But I'm better now? I'm cured?"

"Let me make sure," Divayth says, examining her closely. "Yes, indeed. You no longer display any symptoms."

Mimmu holds up her hands to her face. "But what is this? Why are my hands not gray? What do you mean… Chimer?"

"The Geneforge," Divayth gestures, "the device we used to treat corprus, appears to transform people into Chimer."

"At least you probably still look like you did when you were a Dunmer, just with a different skin tone?" I gesture to the mirror, and she nods. "It would have been incredibly awkward to have clones of Nerevar all over the place."

"Nerevar?" Mimmu repeats in confusion.

"That's me," I say with a wave and a cheeky grin.

"You're the Nerevarine!" Mimmu exclaims, wide-eyed. "The one who was prophesied to come and save us!"

"Yes, how did that go?" I muse. "Neither blight nor age can harm him. The Curse of Flesh before him flies." I gesture broadly and let out a wild laugh. "Well, then, _fly_ , corprus! You are all going home!"

"You were the first test on whether the Geneforge would work on anyone other than Nerevar," Divayth says. "I must say, I am quite pleased with the results, unexpected though they might be. To think that, not only have we driven corprus into submission, but to have restored the Chimer was well?"

"Surely it is a sign of Azura's blessing," Mimmu says quietly.

"Maybe," I say with a soft chuckle. "I don't know if she had any direct hand in this, but she _did_ send me. I don't think she needed to intervene directly here, though. In my time away, I journeyed in realms far beyond the confines of Mundus and learned of things unknown in these realms. I brought back knowledge with me, which, when combined with the extensive research of Divayth here, was able to lead us to construct _this._ "

"And you're going to cure everyone?" Mimmu asks.

"Of course," I say, and incline my head to Divayth. "I'll leave this in your capable hands. I need to get back to the Urshilaku."

"By all means," Divayth says.

"Which tribe did you belong to?" I ask Mimmu.

"I don't really recall, but it's starting to come back to me. I'd humbly like to go with you back to the Urshilaku, at least. If you would take me."

"Certainly," I say. "I can Recall us there right now."

I'm suddenly looking at these prophecies in a whole new light at the moment. Perhaps they were mislabeled as such in the first place. A mistranslation. The Seven Trials is less a prophecy than a list of challenges to me. If that makes it a self-fulfilling prophecy, then so be it. Challenges I can handle.

Mimmu and I appear near the Urshilaku camp. The skies are dismal and gray, but at least the wind is calm for the moment. All eyes are upon us as we approach.

"Hear, everyone!" Mimmu calls out. "The Nerevarine has come! Nerevar is reborn! He has brought about an end to the Curse of Flesh and laid Azura's blessing upon us!"

Well, I guess being subtle at this point was out of the question anyway. I sadly wasn't going to be able to get away with letting Divayth Fyr take some well-deserved credit for getting the Geneforge working, either. No, the Ashlanders going to attribute it to Nerevar. At least the House Dunmer are less likely to be quite so outright worshipful. These Ashlanders? I'm just not going to argue. It would weaken my case, anyway. Nothing to be done but to stride forward and put on a mask, as I've always done.

Nibani Maesa comes out of her yurt in confusion and looks over to me. "Who is this?"

"This is the Nerevarine," Mimmu tells her.

"I would hear his words from his own mouth, dear girl," Nibani says lightly.

"Nerevarine, Stormseeker," I say. "I'm the one who brought you the Lost Prophecies."

Nibani is quiet for a moment. "You look different."

I chuckle and say quietly, "Things got weird."

"Azura has forgiven us our sins and restored us as Chimer," Mimmu said, spreading her arms wide.

"Azura's direct intervention was unnecessary," I say. "But she sent me, her champion, to do this. I have broken the Curse of Flesh. No longer need you and your people live in fear of the blight that descends from Red Mountain. Turn your eyes to the south, to Red Mountain, and tell the Sharmat, _we defy you_!"

"You've passed the second trial," Nibani says.

"And so, to that end, I am your doom and your destiny," I say. "I bear the hope of a thousand worlds."

"You do not bear the Moon-and-Star," Nibani says. "You have not yet passed the third trial."

I smirk. Of course this wouldn't satisfy her. Here a miracle arises and she's still not satisfied. "The ring. Yes. What can you tell me of it?"

"Nothing," Nibani says. "These are secrets I may not share with you."

I'm starting to really hate these damned Ashlander wise women. Or at least, this particular one. Can she at least wait until I'm done with my rousing speech before casting aspirations on my inadequacies? Fuck's sake.

"So… Who might?" I ask with patience and contained annoyance.

"Speak with the Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul," Nibani says. "He can tell you about the trial."

"Fine," I say. "Fine."

As Mimmu wanders off practically preaching about me, I head for the Ashkhan's yurt. I go over an explanation to him again of who I am and how corprus has been cured.

"There is wisdom in this," Sul-Matuul says. "And I have spoken with Nibani Maesa at length regarding you. I have no dispute with what you have accomplished, but it was a test of endurance and will. I must set before you a test of strength and valor. All of those who came before you failed the warrior's test."

I feel like strangling him about now. Here I've practically accomplished what might as well be a miracle, and it's not enough. He and Nibani hardly seem to even be impressed that Nerevar himself is standing before them in the flesh, having brought salvation to them. But reasonably, I knew there would be more tests. That had only been the _second_ of seven trials, after all. And the first one was being born, so it hardly counts.

"War is a path I know well," I say. "What would you ask of me?"

"You say you are now immune to the terrible corprus disease," Sul-Matuul says. "There is an old fortress near here, called Kogoruhn. The blight beasts have moved into the place and taken it over in recent times. It would bring some safety to the tribe and to the region if you would go there and clear them out, as well as prove your courage and might."

"Consider it done," I say.

"It is a terrible place to inspire fear in even the most battle-hardened veterans," Sul-Matuul says. "While you are there, I want you to locate and bring back some tokens to prove to me what you have accomplished. A cup with the symbol of House Dagoth, some corprus weepings to prove you are indeed immune to the disease—"

"Wait, what?" I say.

"Corprus weepings," Sul-Matuul repeats. "Hardened pus that drained from their sores."

"Okay, for one thing, this is disgusting," I say. "For another, _why_ would you wish me to bring this into your camp?"

"Do you believe yourself immune or not?" Sul-Matuul asks.

"I _am_ , but you and your tribe are not," I say. "I mean, at this point, curing you all again would be perfectly doable, but seriously? You don't know that. You're asking me to bring disease amongst you. I don't want to do that to you, but if you _really fucking insist_ …"

"Yes," Sul-Matuul says. "Are you quite done?"

"Right," I say. "Okay. You want Dagoth's stylish tableware and their pus."

"And an artifact called the Shadow Shield that I believe to be inside," Sul-Matuul says.

"What if it's not?" I ask. "And what does it look like?"

"It looks like a shield," Sul-Matuul says.

I would dearly like to punch him about now. "And then you'll tell me what you know of the third trial? Where I can find Moon-and-Star?"

"Yes," Sul-Matuul says.

That's worth enduring some more of this foolishness, at least. I've gotten deeply curious about this ring by this point. What was really so special about it? It's just as well that he wants me to do this, I suppose. Killing a bunch of monsters will be a good way to let out the anger at being asked to go kill a bunch of monsters before anyone is willing to tell me anything else.

* * *

"Explain to me again why this is necessary," Gellert says as we wander around in the Ashlands.

"Sul-Matuul is a dick," I say.

"You just cured the incurable disease," Gellert says. "Does that not count for anything?"

"Apparently not enough," I say, rolling my eyes. "Whatever. Divayth will continue to administer the cure to the patients in the Corprusarium. Mimmu has apparently taken it upon herself to proselytize for me, and I'm sure the others that get cured will put in a good word for me, too. So no, I really don't know why this is necessary, but it's a Sixth House stronghold and we were going to be making sure those got cleared out anyway, so whatever. Let's kill some stuff."

"Sounds good to me," Gellert says. "If I get infected and cured, will I turn into an elf, too?"

"I have no idea," I say.

"It would be interesting to be a Chimer," Luna says.

"You don't like being a Bosmer?" I ask.

Luna shrugs. "I don't have much attachment to them. I was born in Cyrodiil. My fellow Bosmer would probably just think I might as well be an Imperial with pointed ears. They're silly, anyway." She paused thoughtfully. "Well, now that I'm with House Telvanni, maybe they'd just think I might as well be a Dunmer. But that's fine by me."

We finally locate Kogoruhn in the midst of the ash-covered wasteland, a blocky structure much like Hlormaren and the other old Dunmer strongholds. Absently wondering why this one had not been connected to the propylon network, I conjure my Bound Sword and head inside, closely followed by the others. Gellert conjures his Bound Axe, and Rispy pulls out his Daedric longbow.

Somehow, knowing that we have a cure, the Sixth House is not quite so dark and terrifying as they had seemed before. Maybe we should be dragging all these people back to Tel Fyr to be cured, and not simply be slaughtering them. I kind of wish we had a portable version. No help for it right now, though. Perhaps another time. Maybe we can find a way to save all these people, but I think many of them are beyond that sort of salvation. How many of them came here willingly? What dark dreams might have driven them to this?

"Ah, the pawn of the Daedra has come," says an Ascended Sleeper, face tentacles twitching mockingly. "A fool, a puppet dancing upon Azura's strings. What did she promise you? Power and glory? When did a Daedric Prince ever fulfill a promise? But here you give in to temptation and fall in with their deceit and lies, like always." A naming spell identifies him as Dagoth Ulen.

"I wasn't _tempted_ ," I reply. "I _chose_."

"Fine, then," Ulen says. "You chose to listen to Azura's pretty prophecies? She sucked her in with lies, and here you dance to her schemes. She intends only treachery, don't you see? She will betray you, like she always does."

I scowl deeply. "I will acknowledge your point, but I do not currently have any better options. And no, Dagoth Ur is not a better option."

"But you have not even considered it," Ulen says. "Go to him below Red Mountain and submit. He will forgive you."

"Dagoth Ur is short sighted," I say. "He thinks himself to rule the world and reshape it how he chooses."

"Do you believe he cannot?" Ulen asks.

"Oh, I'm sure he most certainly can," I say. "Not that I particularly appreciate the sort of world that he imagines. Is he so deluded within his own mind that he spreads blight and disease thinking that he is gracing the world with rainbows and flowers?"

I hold my tongue, for the most part, on what I really think. I don't know how much Dagoth Ur can see from the eyes of his servants, but I don't want him figuring out that I have designs larger than merely the world. It's a short sighted goal that lives within the bounds of one world, when there are a potentially infinite number of worlds out there.

"So, what, you choose war with Lord Dagoth Ur out of principle and not merely because Azura's prophecies say you must?" Ulen asks.

"Suppose you can say that, yes."

"At least that is a goal you have chosen and not merely blindly following what the Daedra tell you," Ulen says. "Or do you believe that only because Azura says so?"

Gellert giggles. "Oh, _this_ guy does everything he does by principle. And that principle might change from one moment to the next, too."

I roll my eyes. "Gellert, you're not helping."

"You're just mad because it's true," Gellert says.

"Are we going to kill the tentacle-faced monster of doom, or just stand around talking to him?" Rispy asks. "Not that I have any objection either way, but I'd like to know whether I need to keep my bow ready to shoot him in the tentacle face."

"Oh, I'll be sporting," Ulen says, waving a hand dismissively. "You can shoot first."

"That is _so_ stupid," I comment.

Ulen falls over with an arrow sticking out of his face.

"Thank you, Rispy," I say.

"You'd think he could have put up some defensive spells," Gellert says. "Or at least dodged."

"Let's just find that shield and get out of here already," I say.

* * *

"Okay, Sul-Matuul, I did what you asked," I say, laying out every shield I found in Kogoruhn as well as a large amount of Dagoth tableware. "I do hope one of these is what you were looking for. And I brought the worst cocktail ever, too." I hold up the — _ugh —_ corprus weepings, in a vial.

"You may keep them," Sul-Matuul says hurriedly.

"Thank you ever so much," I drawl.

"You have passed the test of the warrior," Sul-Matuul says. "I am satisfied."

I gather up all the crap and pass it off to Rispy to be hauled into storage in the portable palace. "Now will you tell me about the third trial, please?"

"'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star,'" Sul-Matuul recites. "That is the Third Vision."

"Yes, and where is this cave?" I ask.

"The Cavern of the Incarnate," Sul-Matuul says. "The secret is a riddle, a test of wisdom."

"Oh, goodie," I mutter.

"The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind. The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl. The dream is the door and the star is the key."

I wish yurts were made of sturdier material. I feel like batting my head up against something right now. What in Oblivion is this nonsense going to prove? But I hold my tongue and just nod.

"Go, with my blessing," Sul-Matuul says.

I take that for summary dismissal and head back outside. Riddles. Why is it always riddles? Do I look like a Ravenclaw here? Well, technically I guess I was in Ravenclaw at least once, and probably more than once.

"Nerevarine!" Mimmu says, greeting me. "I take it you have returned successful from your trials?"

I nod. "I killed a lot of monsters, yes. Have you had any luck with regaining your memory?"

"Somewhat," Mimmu says. "My mind is clearing. I believe I was once a member of the Ahemmusa tribe, before I became infected with corprus. Perhaps I will return to them, when the time comes. I will remain here for the moment, however."

"I don't suppose you could help me with something," I say.

"Anything, Nerevarine," Mimmu says. "You saved my life and my sanity."

"I've got a little riddle you might be able to help with," I say, then repeat the riddle Sul-Matuul gave me.

"Hmm," Mimmu says. "It must be talking about the Valley of the Wind. The entrance is marked by two standing stones called Airan's Teeth. There's a rock outcropping in it called the Needle. The tip of it has a distinctive white, pearly color."

"Okay, I guess that wasn't much of a riddle after all," I say. "Just the usual terrible directions. Can you give me a general location for this valley?"

"In the northeastern Ashlands," Mimmu says.

"Alright, thank you very much," I say. "I will now go and spend the next several weeks wandering aimlessly around the Ashlands looking for this place."

"Good luck!" Mimmu says cheerfully.

* * *

So, I set off wandering the Ashlands, with one companion or another keeping me company at any given moment. Whenever the blight storms whip up too bad to see, I deploy the yurt and take refuge inside the portable palace until the weather clears up a bit. My friends busy themselves with their own business in the meantime, and keep tabs on Divayth's progress. Chimer begin appearing in towns all over Vvardenfell with tales of a miraculous cure.

"The Ashlands are vast," I mutter, poring over Sirius' magic map. "If it weren't for this, finding this place might well have been hopeless. As it is, it's just _mostly_ hopeless. I feel like I'm just going to need to map out the whole fucking place before I can find it, directions be damned."

"It seems a universal truth that people on Vvardenfell are terrible at giving directions," Rispy mutters.

"I'm working on a spell that shows the way to your goal," Sirius says. "It's nowhere nearly ready for use yet, though. My trial runs are proving promising, but so far it's only really useful for finding things within one room, and not miles away."

"I'll get there eventually," I say. "It just better not be too late, by that point. Have we heard any word back from the Imperial City?"

Sirius shakes his head. "Brax has gone silent. I guess he's probably just gathering information, and nothing so vital as to need our attention has come up."

"Haven't seen Gellert in a while, either," I say. "Did he actually start taking House Redoran seriously?"

"Dunno," Sirius says. "I just found out about a secret group of thieves who do good deeds while wearing silly gloves."

"This seems counter-intuitive," I say. "But it takes all kinds, I guess."

Finally, one morning, I spot two pillars in the momentarily clear air that might just be the Teeth that Mimmu mentioned. Or just another couple random rocks, like everywhere else has been. This area isn't on the map yet, though, so I might as well check it out. Further down the valley, I spot another outcropping with a pearly white tip. I think I've finally found the place. Before I can get much further, another blight storm blankets the area and I have to take refuge again.

"I'm starting to really hate the Ashlands," I mutter. "Why does _anyone_ voluntarily live here?"

"You get used to it," Kirlin says. "It wasn't much better in Ald'ruhn."

"I guess it goes to show people can get used to anything?" I say.

Once the storm clears up, I make my way down the valley and come upon a large door that won't open. Seeing as Azura is probably involved here, I assume that it will probably inconveniently open at dawn and dusk, and set about to waiting. Sure enough, come dusk, the door opens at my grasp and lets me inside.

The Cavern of the Incarnate. A statue of Azura stands in the center of the cave, holding in her palms a ring depicting a moon and star on it. I'm not sure what I expected here, but this isn't quite it. I cast Magic Nap and take up the ring, and without further ado, slide it onto a finger.

A voice speaks in my mind the words, " _Enter passcode_."


	33. Moon-and-Star

" _Enter passcode_ ," the voice in my mind repeats. The voice, Moon-and-Star. The voice of the ring I'm wearing. My _own_ voice.

"There is no temptation. There is only choice."

"Invalid passcode," Moon-and-Star replies. "Initiating backup checks. Blood test… Success. Soul test… Success. Mind test… Failed. Initiating personality verification."

"Proceed," I say.

"First question. You and your companion, Tom, have been imprisoned. Your jailer tells you that if you testify against Tom, your sentence will be reduced. If you betray Tom and he does not betray you, you will go free. If you both betray one another, you will both receive two years in prison. If neither of you betrays one another, you will both receive one year in prison. If Tom betrays you and you do not betray him, he will go free and you will spend five years in prison. Do you betray Tom, or keep quiet?"

I scowl. This question seems familiar. "Neither. I Shout all the doors open, free Tom, and kill everyone involved."

As the test proceeds with these sorts of questions and I keep replying recalcitrant refusals to take either of the bad options, I realize where I've seen this test before. They're exactly the same questions as the data repository on Kashyyyk asked me. I answer all the trick questions with third options, and finally, Moon-and-Star declares its verdict.

"Similarity with another test acknowledged," Moon-and-Star comments. "Making another data repository in another world is fitting with the pattern in memory. Personality test passed. Welcome, Stormseeker."

"Access repository," I say.

"Access granted. All files are available to you. Remember to change your passcode. It has been 3,549 years since you last changed your passcode."

"New passcode:" I say, then speak in the old Rakatan language, "Passcodes are stupid and this never works."

"Passcode change acknowledged," Moon-and-Star replies blissfully. "Mental scan indicates near-complete memory loss. 99.997% of of your memories do not match those on file in this repository. Recommend synchronizing memories. Automatic synchronization is currently disabled."

"Synchronize memories," I say.

"This process may take some time, given the current level of fragmentation detected. I will first upload your current memories into the repository in order to keep them safe, and then download the memories in this repository into your mind. This will be very disorienting and may result in unexpected side effects."

"What sort of side effects?" I ask.

"You may find that the motivations of your previous self do not completely match up to your current motivations. Your emotions and beliefs will be merged."

"I can't imagine that my motivations could have been _that_ different," I say. "Aside from accounting for a difference in knowledge and situation." I let out a sigh. "I would rather know than not know. I am no longer afraid of myself."

"Acknowledged," Moon-and-Star says. "Initiate upload?"

"Yes."

My mind reels as memories flood past me. Lightsabers. Spaceships. Wands. Spells. Werewolves. A montage of faces of everyone I've interacted with. It takes a while. I have years worth of memories that Moon-and-Star wants to store, and while I'm not sure it's entirely necessary at this point, I won't complain of another backup. I haven't gotten this far by being complacent.

"Upload complete," Moon-and-Star says finally. "Processing data. Please wait… Defragmenting data. Please wait… Organizing data. Please wait…"

I patiently please-wait until it gets done with everything it wants to do, taking a seat and leaning against the giant statue of Azura.

"Initiate download?" Moon-and-Star prompted.

I take a deep breath and pause for a moment before replying, "Yes."

* * *

I remember.

Azura stands before me. "You forget yourself, again and again and again. I can help you, if you wish. You came here seeking my wisdom, did you not?"

"I don't even remember starting the journey," I admit with a sigh. "I need help. I'd be a fool not to acknowledge that."

Azura nods. She appeared to me in the form of a human, a Breton like myself, fair skinned and dark haired, but it soon became apparent that she was no human. Daedric Princes can appear in whatever form they choose, and she chose to use a form similar to my own.

"My aid does not come without a price," Azura says. "Are you willing to pay?"

"My lady, I don't even know how I got here," I say. "I barely know who I am. Nothing you could possibly ask of me would be worse than knowing that tomorrow, I may have forgotten this conversation. That tomorrow, I might be a different person for not being able to remember who I was yesterday. I die of memory every day. The only true death is to forget."

The only thing that kept reminding me of where I'm going was the ring I bear, marked with Azura's symbols, a moon and star. I don't remember where I got it.

"Should you choose to accept it, you will be my champion in this realm," Azura says. "An agent to act in my name where I cannot. In return, I will grant you the gift of memory. So long as you bear my gift, you will not forget."

"But… it's not that simple," I say. "I forget when I _die_."

Azura gives an enigmatic smile. "I know. Your path weaves in and out through time, child of the dragon. But do not believe that this means I cannot aid you. Not at all."

"Alright," I say dubiously. "I'll take your word on that. What sort of things would you have me do in your name?"

"There is a race I have a vested interest in," Azura says. "They need leaders. They need a general."

"Me?" I say. "A general?"

"Yes," Azura says. "Your leadership could guide my people to greatness. But I would need to make you one of them. They would not accept a human leading them."

"Human?" I ask. "What _are_ they?"

"They are mer. Elves, as humans might call them." Her image shifts before my eyes, becoming taller and with skin like copper.

"Well," I say. "I suppose I could be an elf, then."

"I will give you further instructions in visions, in dreams, in prophecy," Azura says. "Heed them, for in them you will learn of my will."

"Noted," I say.

This bargain is more open-ended than I might like, but I have no better options. My mind is falling apart around me and I live in a constant haze. It's a miracle that I made it to this shrine at all. I don't know how I learned of this shrine, learned of Azura, learned of how she might be willing and able to help me. Is she really the only one who could? I must have decided at the time that she was my best option. But the road has been perilous, and I feel like I have lost everything along the way. I have nothing left to lose and everything to gain.

"I accept your offer."

"Give me your ring," Azura says. "I will bless it for you."

I pull it off my finger and place it into her cupped hands.

A gleam of moonlight fills Azura's hands, and she returns the ring to me. "Wear my gift. It will adjust itself to your mind and you can do with it as you choose. It can store more knowledge and memories within it than you could gain in a million years. Each time it detects that the memories in your mind do not match the ones within it, it can attempt to match them up, to store any new memories it lacks and return to you the ones it has that you have lost."

I take the ring reverently from her hand and slip it onto a finger. It washes through my mind and takes a quick snapshot of the one single day that I can remember. This day, I will not forget.

* * *

I remember images, names, faces. Not a mere handful of years, but _centuries_. My wars do not span the galaxy, but for all of that, they may as well have been just as great and terrible. I unite the disparate tribes of the Chimer and forge an alliance with their sometime rivals, the Dwemer. They believe the ring to have granted me supernatural powers of leadership and persuasion. There is nothing supernatural about it. At least, if there is, it's not because of the ring.

With the Chimer at my back and the Dwemer at my side, I fight the Nords who sought to Shout down our walls and drive them from our lands. I did not recognize their words for what they were.

I meet Sotha Sil, and study with him. He is quiet and keeps to himself, but very knowledgeable and I value his insights.

I meet Almalexia. A beautiful wedding accompanied by a gift of matching swords.

And then there's Vehk…

A bright youth, strange and merry, I spend much time at his side as we travel the world and have great adventures. The world is always a brighter thing when shared, and he is my staunch companion for many long years. Happy and light, he loves wordplay and spinning tales.

"What is it with you and pomegranates?" I laugh heartily. "That totally wasn't how it happened."

Vehk grins and shakes his finger. "If you doubt me, I might not tell you the secrets I've learned."

"You know you'll tell me anyway," I say coyly.

* * *

_I remember._

"This object the Dwemer have found," Azura speaks in my dreams. "It is the Heart of Lorkhan."

"Who?" I wonder.

"Lorkhan was the god who tricked the others into giving up their power," Azura tells me. "Some fell for his trickery, and because of it, they cannot act within Mundus. The Daedra refused and retained our power. For his deceit, the gods tore out Lorkhan's heart and cast it beyond the horizon. And here it landed, in this star-wounded land. Here, where Red Mountain built up around it."

"I know they said it was a great source of power, but this?" I say. "You say it's really the heart of a dead god?"

"Yes," Azura says. "And they _must not_ tamper with it. No mortal was meant to have power like this. No mortal should seek to become a god in this manner."

I frown. "Dumac didn't sound like they were trying to become gods or anything like that. But I don't think he really knew what Kagrenac was trying to do, either. I will warn them, though."

"Warn them if you will," Azura says. "But if they cannot be discouraged from the course they have chosen, they must be destroyed."

"What, all of them?" I ask. "Not every Dwemer knows what's going on with their tonal architects."

"And yet, what happens here in the days to come will affect all of them, whether they know it or not," Azura says. "This course will be their undoing."

I let out a heavy sigh. "I will warn them."

The last thing I want to do is to be forced to go to war with my friend Dumac over something like this. Over _anything_. But if Azura demands that of me, then that is her right. That is what I agreed to when I took up the role as her champion, after all. I would not even be here if it weren't for her.

I just keep liking that role less and less.

* * *

_I remember…_

Dwemer machinery surrounds me on all sides as I descend beneath Red Mountain. I have to warn them. I have to stop them. This bloody war has already cost me a dear friend, and for what? _For what_? Dumac would surely not have supported Kagrenac if he knew what was going on down here. But I could not explain it to him. I didn't know myself.

I come to the heart of the facility, the chamber holding the Heart of Lorkhan and the machinery surrounding it. Here, I expected to confront Kagrenac. Here, I expected to engage in battle with a scientist who only hoped for the best for his people, and all on Azura's say-so. And here the room stands empty. Machinery continues to hum. The Heart gleams in the shadows with an inner light of its own. And no Dwemer are in sight.

Slowly, cautiously, I walk into the chamber, peering about this way and that for any sign of movement or anything unusual, but unusual is enough that there's no one here. Then, as I approach the Heart itself, I see three gleaming objects laying on the floor. A gauntlet, a hammer, and a crystal dagger.

"What's going on?" Voryn asks, coming in behind me. "Did they evacuate the facility?"

"If they did, they wouldn't have left these behind." I reach down to pick up the dagger. At its touch, excruciating pain rips through my arm and into my body.

* * *

_I remember…_

Moon-and-Star murmurs, _"Synchronizing memory_ ," softly in my mind as I wake up after dying.

Making a mental note that Keening kills you if you pick it up without protection, probably from that gauntlet it was laying beside, I head back down into Red Mountain. I hurry, making my way straight to the Heart chamber in hopes of getting there before they do _whatever_ it was they did. But I think it was already too late by the time I woke up this morning.

I let out a heavy breath as I see the empty Heart chamber before me. I turn around. Rispy and Voryn have followed me in. "Rispy," I say. "Have the troops scour the facility. Capture, not kill. Have them bring anyone they find to base camp."

Rispy nods tersely. "It will be done." He heads off.

"Voryn," I say. "I need to go back and talk to the others. Stay here. Watch over this place and keep an eye on these tools, but do not touch them." Only one of us needs to die randomly from being stupid enough to touch the things.

* * *

_I remember…_

"He has used Kagrenac's tools," Azura tells me in a dream. "You must destroy him."

"Damnit, Azura," I mutter. "It was never part of our agreement that I should be forced to turn against my friends. You've already turned my hand against Dumac. Now you want Voryn dead as well? Who next? Vehk? Rispy?"

"You agreed to my bargain when I first blessed your ring," Azura says. "You agreed to become my champion and do whatever I wish."

"I never agreed to be your damned slave!" I snap.

"This was always your choice," Azura replies coolly.

I clench my eyes shut, heart racing. I hate this all with every fiber of my soul. "I will do as you ask."

Even as I speak the words, I am thinking of some way to be free of this accursed situation.

* * *

_I remember…_

"You travel from world to world," Rispy tells me. "This is not the only world in existence."

"I've had dreams, from time to time," I say. "Strange dreams of other realms completely unlike this one. I should like to see them, I think." I sigh as I look down the hill toward the camp, where my friends are speaking amongst themselves. My hands are clean, but I feel as though the blood of Dumac and Voryn will never wash off.

"You can leave, if you want," Rispy says.

"Better that I go than be forced to kill another friend," I say. "How?"

"It varies from world to world," Rispy says. "Certain spells or abilities can cause you to be knocked out of the world and into another one. Here, maybe some sort of soul-related magic?"

"Rispy," I say distantly, looking off toward the two moons. "Have you lived this life before?"

Rispy is silent.

"I'm never quite sure just how much you know of these other lives, other worlds," I say.

"We've been to this world before," Rispy says softly.

"Did the same things happen?" I ask.

"Not exactly the same things," Rispy says. "Infinite variations. I could not have known what would happen. Sometimes, worlds have something fundamentally different about them that makes any assumptions you make about them invalid."

"You couldn't have warned me of what would happen," I say.

Rispy shakes his head. "I could not. I could not have known."

"Could you have known Azura would betray me?" I ask.

"Her?" Rispy says. "Her nature is as changeable as the moons." Rispy sighs. "I wish I could have helped. I don't even normally reveal myself to you like this. I act like just another native of the world, of the time period we're in. So often you don't remember, and it gets frustrating, you know? It's been nice, these past few centuries, to have you able to remember."

"I will hate to forget," I say quietly. "But I cannot live like this."

"You do as you will," Rispy says. "I'll be with you, always."

* * *

_I remember!_

"Vehk," I say quietly, "I want you to kill me."

* * *

_Synchronizing memory…_

* * *

_Synchronizing memory…_

* * *

_Synchronizing memory…_

* * *

I wake in the Cavern of the Incarnate, leaning with my back up against the statue of Azura, tears rolling down my cheeks.

I remember everything. Every word I spoke to my friends, every movement, every battle, every drop of blood. They lay in my head, integrated into my mind as though they had always been there. This is by far the most complete memory restoration I've had, barring the truncated beginning. The stories I told of my early lives helped, but they required time, and an appropriate audience. I don't know why the audience was important, but I couldn't tell them without it. This, though? Moon-and-Star restored centuries worth of memories in a single night, whole and complete without any gaps or omissions. Whatever else might be said of Azura, she knew what she was doing when she blessed this ring.

Azura… oh, Azura… You knew. You _knew_. You sent me back here and you _knew_.

I'm glad she's taking a more hands-off approach this time, at least. Or maybe she realizes that she doesn't need to have anymore hold over me than she already does? I fell right in with her plots again. I needed her help, and she provided it, but at what cost? And was it really fair to ask a cost for saving the universe? No, she didn't ask anything of me when she sent me here. She didn't have to. She knew I would never be able to leave until I had done what she wanted anyway. An unspoken guarantee. Sooner or later, I would have to let things play out the way she wanted to just so that she would extract us.

I stand up slowly and turn around to look at the statue. Azura is silent, but I know she's watching. She's always watching. I don't need to speak aloud my intention. She should know perfectly well just what I've remembered. Just what I did at the end of my last life here. I don't know what she might do. I don't think she _can_ do anything. Not directly. I don't even really need this ring anymore, although it will make a nice symbol for convincing people that I really am the Nerevarine, should I wish to use it for that.

I step out of the cavern as the sun dawns over the mountains around the Valley of the Wind, and stand for a moment staring at the sky. Vvardenfell was green, in my day. It was a beautiful place, the lands rich and lush. My heart aches to see what was done to it. The sun filters down in a break in thick, angry red clouds. Another blight storm is brewing. I should get inside before it descends upon me.

Voryn Dagoth was not mad when Azura forced me to kill him. When did he lose his mind? His delusions run as deep as the magma below Red Mountain.

Inside the yurt, in the portable palace, my friends are waiting for me. They've all gathered in the pub today, holding a vigil that seems to involve large quantities of alcohol, imported food from the other side of Tamriel that doesn't involve bug bits, and skooma. A smirk spreads across my face in amusement. I love these people. It's good to see that some things haven't changed.

"You found it," Tom says, eyes falling upon the ring on my hand.

"This calls for a celebration," Sirius says, raising a mug.

" _Everything_ calls for a celebration with you guys," I say with a grin.

"What's it do?" Gellert asks.

I lean against the table next to him and gaze down at Moon-and-Star. "It's a memory repository."

"You remember?" Rispy says quietly.

I nod. "Did you know?" I ask. "Did you know what it really did?"

"No," Rispy says. "You kept it a closely-held secret even from me. If I had…"

"Understandable," I say. "Rispy…" I go over and hug him tightly. "Thank you."

"Anything interesting in those memories?" Gellert asks.

"Oh yes," I say. "Yes indeed. This changes everything." I take a seat at the table with them. "Let me tell you all about it. And get me a round of whatever you're drinking. I'm going to need it."


	34. Nerevar and Vivec

The faces of my friends are quiet for a long moment once I've finished telling my story. Well, not really finished. I summarized a lot, otherwise we'd be here until Alduin the World-Eater showed up to devour the world. It had always bugged me a little wondering if I had really stayed the same person despite having forgotten myself again and again and again. After finding Nerevar's actions, thoughts, and decisions perfectly understandable given their context and circumstances, I think I can safely say that there are fundamental things about me that have never really changed.

"Now I at least know _which_ timeline we wound up in," Rispy comments finally.

"And you don't need to feel shy about talking about it, either," I tell him with a smirk.

"There were worse," Rispy says. "Though I'd still been kind of hoping it wasn't this one, even though things kept pointing to it. And Azura…"

"I don't think we need to worry too much about talking shit about her _here_ ," Gellert said. "We're in Sanguine's realm, after all."

"Azura manipulated me and withheld information from me," I say. "Although I'm not certain that her desire to keep the Heart of Lorkhan out of the hands of mortals was entirely _wrong_ , given everything that's come of it."

"This leaves the question," Remus says, "what are we going to do about it?"

I sigh. "I don't know. Bitch has us by the balls and we never even realized it."

"I will continue my research," Tom says. "House Telvanni is good for esoteric arcane studies."

"Research," I say. "Can we get out of here without Azura's help or what?"

"I have a lead," Tom says. "A very solid lead. The shape of the Nexus is not unknown in these lands. I will need to travel to the other side of Tamriel to confirm my suspicions, however. I will hold off on that until the situation here is stabilized in case I am needed, though."

"What's your lead?" I ask.

"Direnni Tower," Tom says. "Also known as the Adamantine Tower, Tower Zero, the Ur-Tower, and the like. It's said to be the oldest building in the world, built by the gods shortly after its creation."

"Certainly sounds like something interesting to look into," I say.

"Are we that eager to leave?" Remus says. "Isn't there still plenty to see and do here?"

"My concern isn't when to leave, but whether we will be able to at all," I say.

"There's plenty of time to figure out an answer," Luna says quietly. "Relax and enjoy the view."

I chuckle softly and nod. "Yes, I suppose I really shouldn't worry too much. It's not like we're on a real time limit here, even if we did wind up having to just get out of Dagoth Ur's way in order to go do something somewhere else. Especially once we figure out the optimal way of dealing with him."

"He may have been your friend once but what he's doing now is beyond mad," Rispy says quietly.

I nod. "I know. Gods, I know."

"Then find a way to bring him back to sanity as you did me," Tom says softly.

I smile wistfully. "Now that sounds nice."

"It would be wonderful to think of salvation for all beings," Kirlin says.

"Right now, though, I think I need to go have a talk with Vivec," I say.

"I'm coming with you," Rispy says.

"Of course," I say with a grin. "Of course."

* * *

I get double takes by people in Vivec City. A casual observer might think I'm just an Altmer, or one of the returning newly-cured Chimer. Then I come face-to-mask with an Ordinator and it's like looking in a mirror. I give him a cheeky grin.

"We're watching you, _scum_ ," he snarls.

"Love you, too," I say lightly, and head for Vivec's palace, casting a glance to the floating rock hovering above the city along the way.

I have to wonder just why every Ordinator in the city bears my face. That's kind of creepy, really. Admittedly they're probably _trying_ to be creepy with it, but I have to wonder what prompted that particular design choice. More than a few odd looks have turned my way by the time I reach the door to Vivec's palace. The door is unlocked. I open it up and head inside.

Vivec, floating cross-legged in the center of the room, opens his eyes to look over at me and says quietly, "Nerevar."

I grin widely. "Vehk."

"I did not think to see that face again in the flesh," Vivec says.

"I'm told you had something to do with that," I say, briefly glancing aside to Rispy indicatively. "Thank you."

Vivec inclines his head toward me. "And you found Moon-and-Star."

"Vehk," I say, putting my hand over the ring. "I remember."

"You remember," Vivec repeats.

"Everything," I say.

"Everything?" Vivec says.

" _Everything_."

Vivec looks away. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I say.

"I murdered you," Vivec says.

"I asked you to," I say. "I _begged_ you to."

"You were grieving over Voryn," Vivec says.

I clench my eyes shut. "I never told you. I never really explained why I wanted you to kill me. I don't think I could have."

"Then tell me now," Vivec says.

"I'm sorry if I left you here in grief and guilt yourself for thousands of years without an explanation," I say.

"I don't really feel much anymore," Vivec says.

"And that shit isn't going to help, either," I say. "Vehk, I asked you to kill me so that Azura couldn't force me to kill you. Because I hated betraying my friends. Because I hated being forced to do things. Because I loved you." I bury my face in my hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry."

"Why are _you_ sorry?" Vivec asks quietly.

"I—"

I open my mouth to try to form an answer, but before more than a few incoherent syllables come out, the door opens again to admit three figures walking side by side. A Nord, an Argonian, and a Dunmer.

"Hallo, figured we'd join you here," Gellert says brightly.

Tom rolls his eyes. "I was coming to discuss metaphysics, not chitchat."

"I just wanted to keep these two out of trouble," Kirlin says, folding her arms across her chest. "Hopeless prospect as it is."

"Well, I just thought it would be funny," Gellert says.

"You are all insane," Rispy comments.

Vivec stops floating in the air and actually puts his feet on the floor for once. "Your new friends, I take it, Nerevar?" He quirks a grin. "You assembled a new Tribunal?"

Tom snorts softly. "Hardly 'new'. We're the original 'Tribunal', if you want to put it like that. Although I find the mythopoeic parallels to be fascinating."

"So, I take it you're this Vivec chap everyone's talking about?" Gellert says. "Pleasure to meet you. The name's Gellert Grindelwald, and totally not Hrofingr the Bent. Some have called me Phoenix. Went by Phoenix Lupin for a while there, too. Guess it doesn't really matter. Anyway. Hi."

Vivec, for his part, seems more amused than annoyed by the sudden intrusion.

"And I'm Kirlin Surana, also known as Cassiopeia Black, and Starfire."

"Seeing as we're making introductions," Tom says. "I am Tom Riddle, Thomas Hawke, Voldemort, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Mender-of-Souls."

"So, about the Ministry of Truth," I say. "Have you done anything about that yet?"

"Yes," Vivec says. "I had it evacuated and shut down after your little jailbreak."

"How'd you know it was me?" I ask.

Vivec looks as me as if I've just asked a stupid question. "I expected that you would break the prisoners out of there, after you mentioned it. It's what you do. Once you did, I used it as an excuse to close it and began dismantling it."

"A reasonable assumption," Tom says.

I smirk. "I'm really predictable sometimes, aren't I."

"Yeah, but we love you for it," Gellert says flippantly.

Vivec looks over the others thoughtfully. "Where, exactly, did you three come from?"

"Solstheim," Gellert replies.

"Before that," Vivec says.

"Right, you mean the _other_ me," Gellert says. "The _other_ us."

"You knew what he meant," I say with a smirk.

"Doesn't really matter," Gellert says. "Hrofingr the Bent might as well be dead."

Tom says, "The selves we were before our Awakening are no more and no less dead than the selves we were yesterday solely for lacking the knowledge of today."

"Yes, well, he-I was-am just some dumb Nord who fancied other men, drank too much, and made poor choices," Gellert says.

"So nothing really changed, in other words," Kirlin says.

"So, you existed in this world before, but you gained knowledge of other worlds?" Vivec asks.

"Each world we visit seems to bear reflection-selves of all of us but Nerevar," Tom says. "Aside from, apparently, the earliest ones for some reason I have yet to determine., although I have speculation on the matter."

"Terrestia?" I say. "Rispy was there, though."

"Rispy is everywhere," Tom says. "It seems to be a cosmic law that Rispy will be there."

Rispy smirks.

"I'm just saying we have a very small sample size in general," I say. "Between here and Terrestia?"

"Thedas," Tom adds. "We visited Thedas after Terrestia. I speculate that at that point, we had stabilized the soul-nexus somewhat."

"That was after the version of me who was Lexen's wife decided to become mortal for some reason?" Kirlin asks. "I'd still like to know what was going through my head. I rather like immortality."

"It is peculiar," Tom muses. "In that we discovered that some of the worlds we visited existed in other worlds as _entertainment_. People dreamed of other worlds."

"Truly," Vivec says.

"By the use of a wheel-construct called the Nexus, we were able to enter those world-dreams," Tom says. "We became a part of those dreams. Our mind-souls merged within the bodies of our other-selves. We existed in these worlds before we Awakened, unaware and unknowing of what may lay beyond the bounds of what we could see."

"You were not a part of this game, and then when you were, you always had been," Vivec says.

I look away from Vivec and put my hands behind my back, and pace in a circle around the room before finally saying. "I miss Vehk."

Godhood changed him. I don't know whether it was a corrupting influence of the Heart of Lorkhan itself, simply having access to that sort of power in the first place, or nothing more than the passing of ages. Can someone go through all of that and remain unchanged? Have I? I think I've grown more than _changed_. At its most fundamental level, my nature is and has always been the same. But over lifetimes, I gained knowledge and perspective upon that nature. Perhaps to an outside observer, that might look like a change. What would those who knew the impetuous child who called himself Harry Potter think of the charismatic general who called himself Nerevar? I look over to that two-toned face and try to see Vehk in his eyes.

Vivec looks back at me and meets my eyes. "Vehk the Mortal died in the Heart Chamber underneath Red Mountain."

"Some part of you is still Vehk," I say. "And you still remember, if you choose to. I didn't, for most of my existence, and that didn't stop me from still being me."

Vivec closes his eyes and floats into the air. "I reached heaven through violence."

I smirk. "My whole life has been violence."

"Azura promised that you would return and take vengeance upon us for our use of the Heart of Lorkhan to attain godhood."

"I don't actually care," I say honestly.

"You do not?" Vivec says. "You were always Azura's staunch champion. Sometimes it seemed that all you did was because Azura said so."

I make a face. "Yeah, well, fuck that. Azura used me and manipulated me, based off a promise made under duress, and she'd be trying to use me again now. But she has no hold over me now and I promised her nothing. And I _do not care_ whatever you did with the Heart of Lorkhan."

"What promise?" Vivec wonders.

I hold up my hand, and show him Moon-and-Star. "I never told anyone. Rispy knew. Rispy always knew. But I was careful not to let anyone else know the truth. And the truth was, I forgot. I'd forgotten everything. I forgot everything, day after day after day. My memories slipped away like the sands of time through open fingers. Azura made me an offer of help, so that I need not forget any longer, and I had no better options but to accept. She left the price open-ended though, and more and more she kept telling me to do things I hated. I couldn't refuse. She treated me like a damned slave and I couldn't refuse lest I lose myself again. I don't know why she cared so much about the Heart of Lorkhan, but once people started messing around with it, she started making me turn on my friends. I asked you to kill me so that I didn't have to kill you. Because _I loved you_."

A silence brittle as glass fills the room.

"How long could one live that song-and-dance," Vivec says quietly. "You always loved freedom. It was with wild, mad eyes that you came to me, begging for death. I believed it was regret that drove you, regret for how we'd slain Dagoth."

"It seems my whole existence has been regret," I murmur. "But no more."

"You don't even care that we stole the godhood," Vivec says, starting to laugh softly.

"Not in the least," I say.

"I'd always wondered, you know," Vivec says. "Azura spoke of you like a returning champion to cast down these upstart 'false gods'. And you'd always done what she said. You'd always done exactly what she said, no matter how you seemed to personally feel about it. I might have thought you loyal to a person, to a cause, up until you suddenly turned on a friend for no apparent reason than the whims of a Daedric Prince. You hate-danced to her petty song."

"No more," I say. "And I will not forget again, no matter what stupid things are happening out in the universe."

I keep paranoidly making journals even when it seems pointless just because I want to make sure _that badly_ that I do not forget again, no matter how unlikely it seems for it to become a problem again. Now, if I could figure out a way to unanchor journals in time somehow, then they'd be more useful. As it is, they're only as good as far back as they're made. That'd be quite the trick, though.

"So, what do you intend to do, then?" Vivec asks.

"This time around, Azura promised to provide us passage to different universes in order to help than and solve their problems or whatever," I say. "I'd really rather not be under any obligation to her whatsoever, nor rely on her for getting anywhere. I don't want to just continue to be a pawn and manipulated into situations I hate. I want to be free of the confines of the universe and go and do what I please."

"You don't ask for much," Vivec says with some amusement.

"At the very least, I'd like to get to someplace less obviously fake," I say. "Not that I haven't enjoyed my time here and all. But the sun isn't a sun, the stars aren't stars, the planets are… something else entirely, and it frankly gives me a bit of a headache just to sense them. Whoever decided that this was how a universe was supposed to be set up had some very odd ideas about it."

"You think the world is fake?" Vivec asks, laughing aloud.

"Well, yes," I say, throwing out my hands. "Here I am, standing on a fucking stage, having been given a really stupid script and being expected to play out this role, and all the while the backdrop is made of cardboard and everyone's wearing masks. Mind you, it's a very pretty matte painting, but it's still disorienting to look at because it's so flat."

"But if the world doesn't exist, do _you_ exist?" Vivec asks.

"Of course I exist," I say. "I might be the only thing that's real in this whole place, me and my friends. No offence. Maybe you're real, too."

"I'm definitely real," Vivec says with a smirk.

"Well, if life is an illusion, it's a very persistent one," Gellert says.

I put my face in my hand. "I didn't really intend to come here and start ranting about cosmology and philosophy, although given how much time you spent writing those sermons of yours, I suppose I'd be in good company. I'd imagine some of the things I say sound no more coherent out of context anyway."

"How do you believe the universe should be?" Vivec asks.

I extend my hands as an illusion forms above them, displaying a slowly spinning galaxy. "This is the Milky Way, a barred spiral galaxy. Over a hundred thousand stars spin around a disc so wide that light would take over a hundred thousand years to get from edge to edge. Each of those stars is a sun, and many of them have planets orbiting them."

Gellert joins in with an illusion of his own, and sings, "And this galaxy is only one of millions and billions in that amazing and expanding universe."

I pause to stare over at him. "Okay, but why are you making illusions of a space lady with a glowing vagina?"

Gellert smiles innocently and makes his illusion vanish. "I could sing the whole song if you like. I have it memorized."

"What are you even talking about?" I ask. "No, you know what, never mind."

"Next time we wind up in a universe where Monty Python exists, remind me to subject you to them."

"Will this involve an entire summer spent singing like that time we took you to see Disney movies?" I ask.

"Maybe…" Gellert grouses.

"Right, where was I," I mumble.

"Go on," Vivec says, clearly finding this all hilarious.

"Okay." I shift my illusion to display the solar system. It's difficult to see the planets at scale, so I form little text boxes pointing to them to label them. "This is the solar system. The sun, like the other stars, is a ball of superheated plasma, ignited by its own gravity into a nuclear fusion reaction and generating light and energy by fusing hydrogen into helium. Nine planets orbit—"

"Eight," Tom interjects. "Pluto gets demoted to the status of 'dwarf planet' in 2006."

"Of all the things you could have remembered from that life, _that_ was in your list?" I ask.

Gellert says, "How dare they do that to poor Pluto?"

"Also, 'dwarf planet' is a stupid term," I add.

"Regardless of the terminology, I would not dismiss the numerological significance of it," Tom says.

"I'm talking science right now, not numerology," I say.

Tom shrugs.

"Right, anyway," I say. "There's four planets, called gas giants, that are balls of gas too small to have ignited into their own fusion like the sun did, and an indeterminate number of smaller, rocky planets of various sizes. While they're named after old deities, they are not generally considered to be either the literal homes of said deities nor their physical manifestations. Let's not discuss comparative celestial entities right now. I do not believe I'm qualified to discuss the gods with a god."

"One could argue that you _are_ a god," Tom points out.

"Whatever," I say. "Moving on." I shift my illusion again. "This is the planet Earth. In some ways it closely resembles Nirn. It has a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere and carbon-based life. A core of molten iron generates a magnetic field around the planet. It is approximately four and a half billion years old, but life didn't first appear on it until almost a billion years later. Single-celled organisms appeared first, and until six hundred million years ago, they were the only form of life on Earth."

"When did the elves show up?" Gellert asks.

"Well, judging by the logs in that old Atlantean ship we uncovered, the El'dari arrived on Earth around forty to fifty thousand years ago."

"Oh yeah, the Lovers of Apostrophes," Gellert says.

"They're glottal stops," I say.

"But you always say it like 'Eldari'," Gellert says.

"I'm lazy and mispronouncing things," I say.

"For shame," Gellert tuts. "I expect nothing less than linguistic perfection of you!"

I roll my eyes. "You see what I deal with here?" I say to Vivec.

"Oh, no, I think you should definitely keep him," Vivec says. "He's good for you."

Gellert gives a suave exaggerated bow.

"He drives me insane," I mumble, though there's no rancor in it.

"You were _already_ insane," Rispy says.

I put my face in my palm. "Anyway. That's the shape of reality, of the last universe I was in. The one prior to that had a different galaxy, different stars, and different planets, but still worked more or less the same way."

"Is that the only way a universe can work?" Vivec asks.

"I don't know," I say. "But the state of affairs _here_ shouldn't be possible."

"Why?" Vivec asks.

I pause, scowling. "Goddamnit."

"Consider it damned," Vivec says with a smirk.

"You're just as bad as _he_ is," I mutter, not looking at Gellert.

"Does question lie in what belief-spheres have shaped a universe?" Vivec asks. "Who created this Earth, this Milky Way?"

"That's a question of millennia of philosophical debate with no answer," I say. "Current general consensus is that the universe began something like thirteen or fourteen billion years ago, somewhere thereabouts, in the Big Bang. It is not currently known what existed before the Big Bang, if anything, nor what caused it."

"Only the current consensus?" Vivec asks. "Has that changed?"

"Absolutely," I say. "One early myth says that the world was made from the body of a giant who had been suckled by a goat. Empirical evidence proves this unlikely."

"But the gods do exist," Gellert says.

"And magic exists," I say. "In one universe, it's commonly known and called the Force, and while most people don't know much about it and can't use it, it causes no ill effects to use it. Meanwhile, in another universe, magic is kept secret and those who can't use it don't know about it, and using it in the presence of those who don't know about it is bad. Paradox-backlash from conflicting belief-spheres, kept in check by Obliviation. A stupid state of affairs if there ever was one."

"So, why is that particular configuration of natural laws the only one that is real?" Vivec asks. "Or if this one is false, is that one not also false?"

I rub my head. "Okay, you know, I came here to talk to you for a reason and I think we've gotten _way_ derailed from that."

"That's an understatement," Gellert says.

"I believe you conveyed your intentions well enough, though," Vivec says. He's not so expressionless as he was when I came in here. He's smiling now. He's actually smiling.

"Hey, Lexen. Harry. Revan. Nerevar," Gellert says. "Okay, let me just clarify right now which you prefer to be called by at the moment?"

"I really don't care," I say.

"That's spectacularly unhelpful," Gellert says. "In which case I'm just going to go with 'Nerevar' for no reason other than you look like a Chimer and it's most likely to piss off everyone within earshot. Anyway, you should totally write a series of 'science' sermons to see if you can convince everyone that there's planets around the other stars, and see what happens."

"You are _so_ on," I say, then turn to Vivec. "Alright. You had this plan about stabbing the Heart of Lorkhan before. It's still a terrible plan. Please tell me Azura didn't give it to you? That sounds like the sort of silliness she might perpetuate for some reason. I don't know why she was so wet for that thing."

"Clearly she thought it was a threat," Tom says.

"Can't imagine why," Gellert adds.

"I don't think you can actually destroy it," Vivec says.

"So, what exactly would wantonly poking it with Keening accomplish?" I ask.

"I believe it would disrupt the enchantments on it that hold it in place and allow it to grant power to people," Vivec says. "This would allow Dagoth Ur to be killed and end the blight."

"Nope," I say flatly. "That's not a solution. And I haven't come all this way just to kill him. I want to find some way to make him sane again."

Vivec chuckles. "You never go in for the easy answers, do you."

"Did you really expect otherwise?" I smirk.

"No, not really," Vivec says. "I'm sure you'll find some way to do the impossible. You always do."

"I'll put that on my to-do list, right next to 'unite the Houses' and 'introduce science to Tamriel'."


	35. Hands of Chaos

I look up from the map and toward the others gathered in the war room. "Alright, I'm going to see about getting recognized as the Nerevarine. I don't imagine that should be too hard at this point."

"I thought you weren't caring about that whole prophecy thing," Gellert says.

"Not for the sake of a prophecy," I say. "For credibility. You're all still working on advancing in your respective factions?"

There's murmurs of reports of varying degrees of success.

"How, exactly, will any of this help to sane-ify Dagoth?" Gellert wonders. "And I know we're using 'sane' in the broadest, most general sense possible here."

"Sane as in realizing that turning everyone into blighted mutant monsters isn't the same thing as growing a garden of plenty," I say. "I kind of prefer my gardens to actually contain healthy, growing plants."

"Right," Gellert says.

"I remember a lot of the Shouts the Nordic Tongues used when they invaded Morrowind back in Nerevar's day," I comment, chuckling. "You know, I could understand them at the time, too. I just didn't think anything of it. It never occurred to me to _ask_ anyone, never mind that I might be able to use them myself. Word-based abilities aren't nearly as common in this universe as they were on that particular version of Earth."

"It is peculiar that those particular words hold meaning in this universe where others do not," Tom says. "I have some thoughts about it."

"Are you going to share them this time?" I ask.

"Dead god Lorkhan is the god of limits, the god of mortality," Tom goes on. "The Missing God. The God of Gaps. You are the dragon thrashing against the bonds of linear time with every twitch of your tail, seeking to break free of all limits. But without limits, the world cannot exist." He taps a claw on the table. "I believe that's why many of the 'rules' we know of from elseworld don't hold true here. Your Jedi and Sith certainly never waved wands and spoke ancient tongues to do magic, either."

"That's true," I say.

"Limits were placed upon the world, allowing certain things to be easier while others became more difficult," Tom says.

"How, and by whom?" I wonder.

"The sermons of Vivec state that there are six 'walking ways', the formulas to 'reach heaven by violence'," Tom muses. "By which he meant, I believe, to attain godhood. Clever. A riddle hidden in plain sight for anyone to see the answer by the gap. The missing number seven."

I groan. "Numerology again, Tom?"

"The words unwritten answer the question unasked," Tom says. "The way to the outside is through the middle. Six walking ways come together to form a crossroads, by way of the seventh."

"Okay, you have been spending _way_ too much time with Vivec lately," I say. "Akatosh help me if you should ever meet Sotha Sil."

"How is any of this supposed to help us defeat Dagoth Ur, though?" Gellert wonders. "Never mind defeat him and make him sane or whatever it is we're trying to do this time."

"I have an idea," Tom says. "Talking with Vivec prompted me to go re-read the 36 Lessons of Vivec—"

"I am _so_ sorry," Gellert says.

Tom clears his throat. "So, you know how we use the Time-Change ritual both to unmake Jez'kai and restore him to the Fenrir Greyback who otherwise would have existed without the corruption of his future god-self?"

"It's not an option without him being a threat beyond this world," I say.

"Although if you were really intent upon using it, you could make him one," Gellert puts in.

I say, "Still, I'm not sure we could readily do it without the aid of a deity unless we spent quite a while preparing."

"We _already_ have the help of a deity," Tom says. "And one who has also already given us the answer."

"Vivec?" Gellert says. "I thought you guys said that his plan of trying to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan was dumb."

"Not that answer," Tom says. "That might have been the answer given to some other Nerevarine who didn't have knowledge of other worlds and hence no better options." He pulls out a book. "I think it was in this one." He flips through the pages. "Yes. Here it is." He pass it over to Gellert. "That. The bottom line. Read that."

"'The ending of the words is ALMSIVI'?" Gellert reads.

Tom snorts softly. "Okay, the second to last line."

Gellert scans up. "'You alone, though you come again and again, can unmake him. Whether I allow it is within my wisdom. Go unarmed into his den with these words of power: AE GHARTOK PADHOME CHIM AE ALTADOON.'" He stops reading midway through the line and lowers the book. "What the hell language is that?"

"Ehlnofex," I say, eyes widening as I realize the implications of it. "Though your pronunciation is atrocious."

"Ehl what now?" Gellert says.

"The language of the original spirits who shaped the world," I say.

"Oh man," Gellert says. "So what does it mean?"

I take a deep breath and try to put the words into an order and meaning that will work in Cyrodiilic. "Let's say, 'and splendid hand of chaos and the weapon'. Or maybe, 'the ruler's changing hands are my weapon'. Maybe even 'royal hand of the Void holds the weapon'."

"That… doesn't really make sense," Gellert says.

"Sorry," I say. "It makes sense to _me_."

"Well, that's the important part, I guess," Gellert says.

"I could give you a lengthy dissertation on what each word means, but I doubt that's what you're interested in," I say.

"It specifically says you can 'unmake' him, not destroy him," Tom says. "Though a casual reader might interpret it as such, I think _we_ know better than to conflate the two."

"You're suggesting that we can unmake Dagoth Ur and restore the Voryn Dagoth who should have existed," I say.

"Precisely," Tom says.

"That can't possibly be as simple as just walking in there and saying those words," Gellert says. He looks back to the book and reads on, "'This magic I give to you: the world you will rule is only an intermittent hope and you must be the letter written in uncertainty.'"

"I'm pretty sure I'll need to be recognized as Nerevarine for it to work," I say. "I must bear the hope of the world, if the world is going to change."

I don't know in which lifetime I might have learned the ancient Ehlnofex language, if I ever truly learned it at all. What circumstances might have led to that? It wasn't when I was Nerevar, at least, not the Nerevar whose memories I now bear. In fact, Nerevar specifically _didn't_ understand it yet. Nerevar had his own answers, in Moon-and-Star, and perhaps was not seeking further enlightenment even though Vehk was. Some other version of me sought other answers, and I'm not entirely certain just what it was that I found. And for all that, I still feel like I'm missing something. Damnit.

"I'll need to mull all this over a bit," I say. "For the moment, I suppose I ought to get back to the Urshilaku and show off my shiny new ring."

* * *

The camp of the Urshilaku clan of Ashlanders is still in the same place as it was last time I was here. In the midst of the Ashlands, in the worst land in Vvardenfell, where the ash and blight coming down from the south, out of Red Mountain, choked the land into a gray wasteland with only a few tenacious growing plants. It tears at my heart to see the state of Resdayn these days — no, Morrowind, as it is called now. Not Resdayn. No longer Resdayn. And never again to be Resdayn. This had always been a severe land, but not like this. Never like this. How do they even manage to stay alive in this sort of climate? Once, the volcanic ash had fed the land and helped the plants to flourish. But this? Now it never gave them a chance to grow. Trama roots and fire ferns are the only things that can stand the climate.

"Nerevarine, you've returned!" Mimmu exclaims. Her eyes fall upon my hand. "And you have Moon-and-Star! The prophecies are being fulfilled!"

"Yes," I say wearily, waving a hand. "I was just thinking." I take a deep breath. "Mimmu. I remember everything. And I cannot stand to see how far your people have fallen."

Mimmu's eyes widen. "You've come to honor our traditions and rights?"

Nibani Maesa emerges from her yurt and looks over at me, but before she can say anything to praise my efforts or demand something else of me, I continue.

"When was the last time your clan made the pilgrimage to Ald'ruhn?" I ask.

"What pilgrimage?" Nibani asks.

I sigh. "You don't know. You really don't know. You've forgotten. How much have you forgotten? How much has slipped away over the course of millennia because no one recorded it?"

"The House people do not let us get close to Ald'ruhn any longer," Nibani says.

"Well, it's about time for that to change, too," I say.

"How can you convince them otherwise?" Nibani asks.

I grin broadly. "Because I'm Nerevar. That's what I _do_. I'll go talk at them until they capitulate."

They're Redorans. Redorans are obsessed with honor. I can use that to manipulate them. Appeal to honor and justice, and they will feel guilty over their treatment of the Ashlanders, and be forced to agree to my demands or be seen as dishonorable. I know that type. They're easy to manage once you know how. The Hlaalu, on the other hand, can be managed by their greed. The Telvanni, on the _other_ other hand, are pretty unpredictable. I wonder how House Indoril will react to me now? I think I need to find out.

I look to the overcast sky. Another ash storm might be coming in. I sigh. "I miss Resdayn. The land has seen brighter days, but I will do what I can to restore them, or at least to bring about different bright days. You, though. For all that you have forgotten, what might yet be done? I don't know everything that you used to know, but I can tell you everything that I _do_ know. I can do that much, at least."

"You… your speech is very… archaic," Nibani says delicately. "I'm sorry. It is difficult to understand what you're saying."

I look at her, then laugh softly. "I was speaking old Chimeris, wasn't I," I say, making an effort to speak the modern language. "Sorry. Even the language has changed, but over the course of millennia, that should not be surprising. If you wish to relearn it, though, I can teach you."

I already have a lot on my plate. At this point I almost feel like I need another fifteen mes just to keep up with everything I've promised to do. I should be able to cheat at a lot of it, though. Delegate a lot of it, maybe even figure out some way to fudge time around so that I can write all these books I've said I'm going to write. That's definitely worth experimenting with if nothing else.

"You've come to make us great again?" Mimmu says.

I chuckle. "I'm not sure that I would want 'Make Morrowind Great Again' to be my slogan or anything. So far as I'm concerned, for all its faults, Morrowind is still pretty great. Things could be better for a lot of people, though. I'll definitely be seeing what I can do."

My next stop is to visit an ambassador of sorts for House Indoril in Vivec City. Although Indoril has no official holdings on Vvardenfell, they maintain a presence in the holy city, not the least of which supporting the Ordinators. The woman is named Llethe Marolus, and her expression never seems to vary above a perpetual scowl.

"And just who might you be?" Llethe asks me. "Don't tell me. That face. You're the one claiming to be Nerevar Incarnate?"

"Word travels fast," I say.

"You are in no way the reincarnation of Indoril Nerevar, no matter what you have done to yourself to steal his face."

"Does Lord Vivec himself not support my claim?" I ask.

"I have heard no word of such," Llethe says.

"Maybe he hasn't gotten around to making any sort of public announcement yet."

"House Indoril will not be welcoming you even if he did, so don't even ask," Llethe says.

I hadn't really expected any different, but I find it more amusing than anything else to be so flatly stonewalled. "Suit yourself," I say with a shrug. "I did not wish to join regardless. Your House has become incredibly foolish in recent years, not at all like the House Indoril I remember. Once, your House was something great, something to be proud of. Now look at you. You were once unparalleled warriors, and now you fall in line with your own twisted ideas of justice."

"You know nothing of our House," Llethe says.

"Law and order? Piety and devotion?" I shake my head. "The House Indoril I remember questioned everything. I taught them to think for themselves and to never let anyone lead them astray with false promises. Now you seem to have forgotten the greater part of that and become something terrible. I'm not sorry that you hold no welcome for me. Maybe one day you will figure out just where it was that you went wrong, and be able to embrace what you once were again."

"You will begone from my office before I call the Ordinators," Llethe says. "I ought to send them after you to execute you for claiming to be Nerevar Incarnate."

"And again you don't listen," I say with a sigh. "Fine. I wish you and your House the best. Farewell." I teleport out of the room without wasting another word on her.

After that nonsense, I decide to take a little trip to Sadrith Mora instead. House Telvanni should be much easier to deal with. I stroll into the council hall and smile around at the Mouths going about their councilors' business.

"Welcome to Sadrith Mora," says Galos Mathendis, the Mouth for Master Aryon. "Are you looking to join House Telvanni?"

"I'm already a member," I say. "Although I've recently undergone a little change in appearance that may make me difficult to recognize."

"Ah, yes," Galos says. "The corprus cure. A glorious achievement for our House."

I grin widely. "Indeed so, and one I'm happy to have been a part of."

"Might I have your name?" Galos asks.

"A Breton by the name of Harry Potter might have come in here at some point," I say. "But seeing as I've discovered that I am the Nerevarine, I may as well go by Nerevar instead now."

"I see," Galos says. "Very well. Call yourself the Nerevarine. We don't care."

I chuckle. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you guys?"

"Not in my earshot, no," Galos says.

"House Indoril doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, either," I say. "Which is just as well, as I'm highly disappointed in them. How about I call myself Telvanni Nerevar instead?"

"If you like," Galos says with a shrug. "We won't care."

I just have to laugh aloud at that.

* * *

"We need to conduct some more experiments with Time Magic," Tom says.

"Of course," I say. "What specifically this time?"

"I've been working on a way for the rest of us to make 'Marks' in time like you do, so that when we reset, we'll snap back to that moment instead."

"Hmm," I hmm. "Is that really safe to test? We might inadvertently jump back to the beginning and lose all our progress."

"If that should happen, then we will know that we found a way to make a full reset without needing to deal with Dagoth Ur and the Heart of Lorkhan. We are capable of reclaiming our progress here. We do now know the optimal means of accomplishing certain things and we have the knowledge of how to cure corprus in our minds right off. And in my experience, there is no chance that we will accidentally erase ourselves from existence or anything like that. Our will to exist is too strong for that. You reject your own death. That isn't going to change."

"True," I say. "I wasn't worried about that."

"Let us reconvene in the meditation chamber and see what we can do," Tom says.

Once inside the room, Tom seals the door and arranged four candles around the room. With a quick color-changing spell, he turns the candles blue.

"Cast your magic nap," Tom says.

I nod, and do so. Tom waves his hand again and changes all the candles to green before casting a mysterious spell of his own. After that, he changes the candles to white.

"Now we see," Tom says.

"What are you going to do?" I ask.

"I do not believe that the usual death method will work here," Tom says. "But that was always a fail-safe your magic took in the event of an emergency, and not the mechanism itself."

"Some fail-safe," I say.

"I am quite certain that your magic should be capable of much more than the simple emergency response. It's just a matter of figuring out how to access those abilities. We have had marginal success so far with intentionally causing a reset without suicide."

"Well, let's try it, then," I say.

"Hmm, so eager, this time?" Tom says. "Here I'd portioned out at least an hour to attempt to convince you to go along with my experiments."

I roll my eyes. "I'm really not going to argue anymore, alright?"

"Hmm," Tom muses. "You're not really in the habit of lying, to be certain, but self-delusion has long been a hobby of yours."

"And I'm self-aware enough not to get mad at your insults," I say with a smirk. "Now, can we get on with this already?"

"By all means, let's," Tom says. "I don't expect to get this on the first try. I told the others before we came in here what we were planning and not to get into anything that would be too annoying to repeatedly reset during."

"That was polite of you," I say. "I mean, more polite than what I usually wind up doing."

"I wasn't going to say it," Tom says.

"Now…" Tom holds his hands up at his sides. "Stay still. Focus on… nothing."

"Nothing?" I say. "That's kind of hard."

"You were that bad of a Jedi?" Tom asks.

"You really have to ask?" I say.

"Fine, it doesn't really matter, I suppose," Tom says. "It would not have been useful in the long run, but perfecting it without distraction might have been nice. No matter. Just focus on whatever it is you usually do while meditating in your own manner."

"Eye of the storm," I say quietly.

"Yes," Tom says. "Do that."

I close my eyes and focus my mind into the storm. _I am the eye of the storm_. Thoughts and emotions swirl around me but leave me untouched in the calm center. Outside of it, Tom's mana surges and the world shifts. My eyes open with a jolt. The candles are blue again.

"Hmm," Tom hmms. "Not enough. Let me make some adjustments and try again." He repeats a similar series of spells, turning the candles green and then white again. "Try thinking about something else. Snakes. Think about snakes."

"Okay," I say. "Snakes it is, then."

Tom casts his spell, and once again, the candles become blue after the world shifts again.

"No, no, this isn't working," Tom mutters. "Lexen, did you ever wonder to yourself _why_ your resets always take you back to the point when you last woke up?"

"They don't," I say.

"Excuse me?" Tom asks.

"They don't _always_ do that," I say.

"I don't mean excepting the 'full resets' that put you much further back," Tom says.

"I'm not talking about those," I say. "I mean that there have been times when I reset more than a day without it having been a full reset."

"Why didn't you say so before?" Tom asks.

"You never asked," I say.

Tom rolls his reptilian eyes. "Fine, in the name of not arguing about it at length, I will grant you that. Now, I am asking. Tell me all about these instances and the circumstances surrounding them."

"Okay, most notably was just before I returned to Hogwarts," I say. "I'm quite sure I described that, didn't I?"

"Do you mean the point where you inexplicably found yourself thousands of years in the future with no apparent transition, still carrying your belongings and in the same body?" Tom asks. "I wasn't counting that. That seems to have been a case of something different from your typical resets."

"There was another instance," I say. "During the Battle of the Star Forge. After I died on the Star Forge the first time, instead of resetting a single day, I reset two days."

Tom frowns thoughtfully. "The dark machine that created matter from energy?"

I nod. "I don't know what it was that triggered it. Whether it was the machine itself, or the amount of guilt I poured into it, or what."

"I highly doubt that latter," Tom says. "For all that you tout regret, your power has never, in all my experience, demonstrated caring about whether you regret an event or not. You still go back to the same point whether or not you regretted something, never mind how much."

"This is true," I admit.

"The properties of this Star Forge, on the other hand, are a mystery to me," Tom says. "I would dearly like the chance to have studied it."

"Maybe you'll get the opportunity sometime," I say.

"Regardless, I do not believe that attempting to replicate the conditions is relevant or necessary in this instance," Tom says. "I am attempting to shift the reset to a specific different time, not merely jump it back to a previous one. Are you certain that you properly set your last reset point prior to the Battle of the Star Forge?"

"I'm certain," I say. "I did a few resets of it that went back to that point before the final one that sent me back to the planet I'd been on before heading out for Star Forge."

"Hmm." Tom rubs his snout. "It _is_ still a precedent in an alternate reset point, however. What were you thinking right before dying at that point?"

"I don't really remember specifically," I say. "It was… something significant _had_ just changed, though. That was when I stopped forgetting things. When I found balance."

" _Hmm_ ," Tom hmms.

"Will you stop hmming?" I say.

"How did you accomplish this?" Tom asks.

"I decided I didn't want to forget anymore," I say. "I chose to face my memories. I realized my memories could not hurt me. It seemed like such a simple thing, at the time. I embraced all of it, good and bad. I paradoxically found peace with myself in the Dark Side."

"You are not a very good Sith Lord," Tom says with a smirk.

"Not really, no," I reply, chuckling.

"Recite the Sith Code for me, Darth Revan," Tom says.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

"You found peace in a lie?" Tom asks.

"Yes," I say. "Because… I realized that the existence of peace in the universe is merely a pause in the inherent violence of sentient species. _All_ sentient species who have survived evolution to the point of sentience have violent instinct to some extent or another. Conflict is what drives beings to progress and excellence. Peace is stagnation."

"Are you saying that just because I reminded you that you were Darth Revan?" Tom asks.

"I… don't know?" I reply.

Tom paces around the room, tail swishing. "Theoretically, you should be able to jump to any point you can remember at all. I don't even know where to _begin_ in researching how to do that, which is why we are starting small."

It's a nice thought. To think I might be able to go to— "Wait. _Any_ point?"

"Yes," Tom says.

"That… would be such freedom," I whisper.

"Indeed," Tom agrees. "We would not need to find a Nexus on Nirn. We would simply need to go back to a point you _remember_ being at a Nexus." Tom grunts. "Finding a Nexus on Nirn is probably the simpler prospect, though."

"It's something to look forward to, though," I say. "Sometimes to dream about."

"Yes," Tom agrees. "It would be enough, for the moment, to be able to return to _one_ additional point, at least."

I nod, and sit back thoughtfully. Why are they bound to going back to the point _I_ last woke at, when they reset themselves? We're all bound together. What makes _my_ reset point so special? Admittedly, the Time Magic power originates from me, but given the soul tapestry that weaves our souls together, my magic recognizes them all as a part of me regardless. Maybe it's just a matter of letting go. For all my talk of equality, I still feel like I have to be in control. Like I'm really the leader here, regardless of what anyone says or does. Does some part of me still not fully trust them? How much do I truly believe in my ideals? They should have their freedom as well. Let them be free.

"Try your spell again, Tom," I say softly.

"Alright," Tom says.

I close my eyes when he begins to wave his claws to cast the spell. I trust him. I trust him absolutely. This was my choice. This was always my choice.

The world shifts. When I open my eyes again, the candles are green.


	36. Maybe

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," I say. "This—"

"What, exactly, would be the point of learning to do this if we do not use it?" Tom asks. He stands and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"I am going to teach these spells to the others," Tom says. "No longer will we have a single point at our disposal. We will have _nine_."

I stare at his tail as he leaves. This is going to take a while to process. This changes everything. And much as I might have the urge to go visit the South Wall Cornerclub and think about things, that won't really solve anything. That would just put things off. I can adjust, and I have time to get used to the new scheme of things. I have all the time in the multiverse.

One by one, my friends and I gather in the communal area to talk and practice spells. Maybe we could have done this in the war room or meditation chambers, but somehow it just feels right to be all relaxing and drinking and eating while practicing magic. For once in all my existence, I feel as though we cannot do wrong.

The first thing we do, once everyone has the spell down, is to make sure one of us has _this_ timeline properly marked down and kept in mind. Luna winds up being the one to take that.

"We'll have to teach Abraxas the requisite spells once we meet up with him again," Tom says.

"Brax'll be _so_ confused when he sees us bouncing around in time," Gellert says.

"He might just realize something is up and come back here himself," Remus says.

"We really ought to have gotten a method of communication set up," Sirius says.

"It wasn't really a priority," I say.

"You do realize what we're going to need to do next, don't you?" Tom asks.

"What?" I ask.

"Do a full reset in order to get a mark right at the beginning of the loop," Tom says.

I scowl. "And that will require fucking around with the Heart of Lorkhan again."

"Yes," Tom says. "But look at it this way. It also means you will never have to fuck around with the Heart of Lorkhan again just to reset."

"I guess there's that," I say.

"One of us will need to keep a Mark active right the beginning," Tom says. "I will volunteer for it, since I begin alone and in a position where I can do whatever I like without arousing immediate suspicion from anyone."

"Are we going to start up a new timeline, then?" Kirlin asks. "We've done a lot to establish ourselves here."

"And now, there's no need to lose that in order to try something different," I say quietly.

"Okay, well," Gellert says. "Aside from just resetting to set a Mark, what are we trying that's different? Besides that I refuse to join House Redoran ever again. Not happening. I don't care how badly I lose a stupid bet."

"We can explore Tamriel," Luna says.

"Learn everyone's secrets," Sirius says.

"Do stupid things just to see what happens," Gellert says.

"Conduct investigations into how we can get out of this world," Tom says.

"Let's do this thing," I say.

That fucking around with the Heart of Lorkhan is the only way I know of at the moment to actually manage a full reset has been annoying to me to no end. Some alternative is definitely more than welcome. We need to break free, and this is the first step. Somehow, just the thought of being able to make a fresh start anytime I want without necessarily losing whatever progress I've made lifts a heavy burden from me.

Thus, with far less trepidation than usual, I make my way to Red Mountain and down to Dagoth Ur's facilities.

"Nerevar," Dagoth Ur says to me by way of greeting. "I welcome you. It is good to see your face again. Have you come in friendship, or in enmity?"

I shrug. "Does it really matter at this point? Voryn, I'm going to help you complete Akulakhan."

"You know of my project?" Dagoth Ur asks.

I grin wryly. "Do you expect anything less of me?"

Dagoth Ur chuckles. "No, I suppose I should not be surprised. You always had a way of knowing things that were impossible for you to have known."

"So, you need Kagrenac's tools, and have Keening and Sunder in your possession, but Wraithguard is still in Vehk's hands."

"That is correct," Dagoth Ur says.

"Why, exactly, do you need Wraithguard, anyway?" I wonder. "Sure, it protects you from the energies of the other two, but can't you just use telekinesis?"

"I've been able to draw energy from the Heart without Wraithguard, but I'm afraid even a god's telekinesis is not precise enough for the work that needs to be done. Is _yours_?"

"Maybe," I say.

"Maybe?" Dagoth Ur repeats. "Will you stake your existence on a maybe?"

I giggle madly and telekinetically lift Sunder and Keening spinning into the air, which Sirius had retrieved for me before I came down here. "My whole existence is built upon _maybe_."

"Nerevar," Dagoth Ur says in alarm. "What are you doing? You don't even know the proper—"

I cackle. "I am the world of _maybe_!"

I bring Sunder down upon the Heart of Lorkhan with a resounding _bong_.

"Maybe we will build a new world," I say.

Despite Dagoth Ur's protests, I swing Keening at the pulsating gemstone with a ringing chord.

"Nerevar—" Dagoth Ur tries.

"Maybe it will even be one in which you are not mad!" I cry.

I remember the words Vivec wrote to me. _Go unarmed into his den with these words of power…_

Nerevar didn't understand the ancient Ehlnofex language. _I do_.

"AE GHARTOK PADHOME CHIM AE ALTADOON!" I shout.

I glance Keening off the Heart one more time, and the world goes white.

* * *

"Wake up," Jiub says. "We're almost in Morrowind. You must have been having quite the dream. What were you dreaming about?"

I rub my eyes and stretch. "I was dreaming about redeeming a friend who had gone mad."

"Ah," Jiub says. "A nice dream."

I nod in agreement, and head out with the guard.

"Please state your name for our records," the guard says.

"Darth Revan," I reply.

"Uh-huh," the guard says, writing something down. "And where are you from?"

"Sadrith Mora," I say.

"Sadrith Mora?" the guard repeats, raising an eyebrow.

I nod. "Yes. I'm with House Telvanni. It'll be good to be home again."

"I suppose I should have expected that the Empire would be sending someone to Morrowind who was actually from Morrowind," the guard says with a chuckle. "I just didn't expect a Breton to be from Morrowind."

"There's a lot of Bretons in House Telvanni, actually," I say. "It's the magic thing."

"I see," the guard says. "Well, go on through to the customs office. You'll just need to fill out a bit of paperwork and you can get your release."

I have to wonder if anyone in House Telvanni will notice or care that I haven't officially joined. I'm guessing probably not. I head into the building and give my occupation as "battlemage" and my star sign as Serpent.

What a day. I feel like I could do anything, go anywhere, and be anyone. And now that I'm here, I don't actually have any damned plan. For all that I've been driven to do things, I feel like sometimes I just need to relax and enjoy life.

I head over to the silt strider and pay for a ride to Suran, and from there to Vivec City. I could probably get there faster, but right now, I just want to enjoy the view. Strange, it seems like the area around Suran is less desolate than I remember it. Once I arrive in Vivec, I walk up to the palace and open the door; it isn't locked.

"Nerevar," Vivec says, stopping floating when he sees me enter. "What did you _do_?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You did not intend to do this?" Vivec asks.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," I say.

"In all the infinite worlds, the one you arrived in was not the one which you left," Vivec says.

I raise an eyebrow. "So it _did_ work, then. What I _did_ was that I invoked the words of power you gave to me in your fifteenth sermon. I invoked the power of _maybe_. I wasn't certain just _what_ it might do, though."

"I see," Vivec says, crossing his legs and floating into the air again.

"Tom is going to be slightly annoyed." I smirk. "Okay. So. Okay. What _did_ I do?"

"Go out into the world and see for yourself," Vivec says.

Frowning, I nod and turn to leave the room and head back to the silt strider port. I ride in the general direction of Red Mountain, making for Ghostgate, only to find something very decidedly _missing_. There is no Ghostgate. There is no Ghostfence. The skies over Red Mountain are blue, and the slopes are lush and green.

"What in the Abyss and the everlasting Void?" I utter.

I close my eyes and sway on my feet. Had one fleeting, fervent wish caused this?

I don't dare actually go into Red Mountain to see what Voryn Dagoth might be like for myself just yet. I leave a Mark here, at the place where Ghostgate once and never stood, and cast an Intervention spell to Ald'ruhn, whereupon I take the Guild Guide to Balmora.

At the bar in the South Wall Cornerclub sits an Argonian in a green hooded robe. Next to him, an Imperial in leather armor looks more than halfway to drunk.

I take a seat next to them. "I didn't expect you'd dare show yourself in town, Tom."

"You took your sweet time in getting here," Tom says. "Sirius has almost drunk the orc under the bar."

"Yeah, sorry," I say. "I took a scenic route and had to confirm something a tad odd."

"Yes, I noticed," Tom says. "Lexen, what in Oblivion _did you do_?"

"You know, Vivec asked me the same thing," I say with a smirk. "And if he doesn't know, I sure don't."

"He probably knows exactly what you did and is just being enigmatic as usual," Tom says. "No, seriously, _what did you do_? Dagoth Ur _never existed_ in this timeline. It has always been Voryn Dagoth."

"I am the world of maybe," I whisper. "As I was fucking around with the Heart of Lorkhan, I wished for a world in which he wasn't mad. And I spoke those words of Ehlnofex…"

"I was expecting that we would simply reset the universe," Tom says. "Not _this_."

I smirk. "I could always go back and try to get the original world again."

Tom shakes his head. "No. And I doubt this could be easily replicated, as well. You don't _want_ to return to the original timeline. If we want to go back there, we'll need to use Luna's Mark."

"No, we could just go to Luna's Mark and do the same thing without doing what I did," I say.

"That's true, I suppose," Tom says.

"So…" I lean back. "Now what?"

"Now?" Tom says. "Now, we drink, and then figure out what to do now that our plans have been derailed."

"I'll go along with the drinking, but I'm unaware that we actually had any plans, particularly ones that involved Dagoth Ur."

"But we can certainly celebrate the semi-accidental sort-of vanquishing of a madman," Sirius says.

"It will certainly make my research easier not to have to worry about him," Tom says. "Although some part of me wishes that we _would_ have just gone into an unadulterated timeline from the start."

"We would have just kept trying to find the most expedient way to take care of Dagoth Ur without disrupting our other plans too badly. Now? Now we have all the time in the world that we might need without having to reset constantly. It's not like any other world-threatening disasters are likely to pop up in the next few years, after all."

"Do you _really_ have to say things like that?" Sirius asks.

* * *

It's surprising just how little Voryn Dagoth not being mad has actually changed the situation here in Vvardenfell. I go to visit Caius Cosades with the encoded message I'd been given in Seyda Neen. It's still mostly the same message, and I think the Emperor still sent me to Morrowind to try to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies. From my perspective now, this seems almost laughable, but I suppose it's true enough that I haven't stopped being the Nerevarine.

Vvardenfell looks much the same, albeit a little greener. Corprus does not plague people traveling in the Ashlands. The Great Houses still pressure the Ashlanders out of their lands. The Empire still encroaches upon Dunmer territory. A giant floating rock still hovers over Vivec City, housing religious prisoners. Maybe I'll do another jailbreak sometime. Right now, though, I have another stop to make.

I Recall back to where Ghostgate doesn't stand, and make the trip up to Red Mountain. Never had I thought to see this place so green and lush. The further up I go, the stranger and richer the flora around me becomes. Brightly colored mushrooms large and small line the trails up the slopes, and fire ferns crowd the edges of the lava pools. The hum of wildlife fills the air, but nothing attacks me. The entire walk up is tranquil and undisturbed. The giant insects and reptiles I spot along the way mind their own business and barely do more than glance in my general direction, moving away if I get too close but otherwise not bothering me.

Voryn Dagoth sits on a stone at the top of the mountain, looking down with an unmasked face almost as if he'd expected me.

"Voryn?" I say, approaching him. "It's me. Nerevar reborn."

"Nerevar?" Voryn repeats, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Is it really you?"

I grin crookedly. "It was a long path that brought me here, but it's really me. I never truly died. You're looking well, though. I see _you_ didn't really die, either."

"Yes, and I am glad you chose to spare me," Voryn says.

I stare at him. Was that the difference? Was that the _maybe_? One choice, thousands of years ago? Did the Nerevar of this timeline refuse Azura's wishes to kill Voryn Dagoth?

"Azura tried to force my hand," I say quietly. "But… there are always choices."

"It is good to see you again, my old friend," Voryn says, coming over to hug me.

This wasn't my timeline, or was it? This was another Nerevar's timeline. But that Nerevar was still me, wasn't he? I think I will need to go find that ring and see if there are any other changes I need to be aware of.

"And this mountain is looking good, too," I say. "Was that your doing?"

Voryn nods. "I've taken a lot of time to study life in all its permutations. I was confused at first, but seeing you die really shook me out of it. Your last words to me. Do you remember what they were?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"You told me never to lose myself," Voryn says. "And never to lose sight of what I'm doing or why."

I look off across the landscape quietly. "You might have otherwise gone mad and turned this mountain into a wasteland of mutated monsters because you believed all should become one with you in flesh and mind."

Voryn cocks his head. "Was that the future you saw, that you were afraid would come to pass?"

"I don't know if I saw it at the time," I say. "But I saw it just now."

"Ah," Voryn says, nodding.

"You thought you were shaping the world into a garden of plenty," I say. "But you no longer understood what you were doing and caused great harm instead. You were full of pride and mad dreams."

"My dreams are calm, these days," Voryn says. "I dream of life and worlds that could be."

"It's good to see your face again, Voryn," I say.

A face, gray-skinned and red-eyed, bare and maskless. The face of a friend who might have otherwise been forgotten.

I bid Voryn good day and head back down the mountain, and make my way to the Cavern of the Incarnate. The ring Moon-and-Star lays waiting for me, just as it had before, and I pick it up and put it on my finger. The ring verifies my identity and offers to synchronize my memories, but when it does so, I find that indeed the only difference is one single day. One choice alone made this universe different.

How many of the troubles of the future rest solely upon my own decisions in the past? What other things could have been averted had I simply made different choices? Would that necessarily have been a good thing? The Dunmer of this timeline never had to struggle with Dagoth Ur, and lived in a kinder, less harsh land. For good or ill, this has also made them softer and gentler. They might not be so capable at battle should something else threaten their land. I hope that they need not be tested again in this generation.

* * *

My group parts ways, for the moment, each of us going off to do our own projects for a while. Tom heads west to the other side of the continent in hopes of studying Direnni Tower, taking Sirius, Remus, and Hermione along with them. Abraxas goes off to work with Caius regarding some imperial politics or something that they'd been working on in the last timeline. Rispy and Kirlin take up a mission to abolish slavery in Morrowind.

Gellert and Luna sit with me on the ledge of one of the upper cantons in Vivec City, watching a ship sail out of Ebonheart, bound for a long journey to High Rock. I don't envy them that boat ride. The very thought of it churns my stomach.

"So, that just leaves us, doesn't it," Gellert says.

"I'm sure we'll see them again before long," Luna says distantly.

"It's weird to say goodbye when they're not really gone," I say.

"The currents will bring them back to us," Luna says.

"Be that as it may, I've got an appointment in the nearest tavern," Gellert says. "And I am going to drink Vivec under the table."

"Gellert, he's a god," I say.

"So?" Gellert says. "He's also a god who happens to be paying for my drinks."

"I'm sure he can just get donations," I say. "Dare I even ask _why_ you decided to enter into a drinking contest with a god?"

"Oh, I didn't," Gellert says. "I entered into a poker contest. The drinks just happened to be included."

"This universe even has poker?" I ask.

"No, but I imported it," Gellert says.

"This is stupid," I say. "I hate games of chance in the first place, and why are you even… you know what, forget I asked. I don't think any answer you could possibly give me would make any sense anyway."

"Luna, you're in, right?" Gellert asks.

"Of course," Luna says.

"You're just going to drag me into this silliness, too, aren't you," I say.

"Absolutely," Gellert says. "Just remember. You've got to know when to fold them—"

"Akatosh help me, Gellert, if you start singing again, I'm going to smack you," I say.

Gellert laughs aloud as we turn and head into the city. I sigh and follow along. Maybe it won't be so bad. Sometimes you have to take a wild chance and do the impossible. Why do I get the feeling that Gellert is about to try to cheat a god at card games? If nothing else, this is bound to be hilarious. The world may have changed, but it's nice to know that some things stay the same.


End file.
